


Chase this light

by Ellessey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Music, Emotional Sex, Falling In Love, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Musicians, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-24 09:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7503096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/pseuds/Ellessey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Daichi adjusts the guitar in his hands, angling his body so he won't bump Suga with it, and starts to play. “Sing,” he says, and a moment later, Suga does.</p><p>His voice is everything Daichi loves about these evenings. Warm and soft and a little raspy. The breeze that glides over his skin and the pebbles that catch in the soles of his shoes. Daichi tries to listen to the words, but all he really catches is the rise and fall of the voice, the way Suga's lips move and his eyes fall on Daichi's hands as he plays.'</p><p>--</p><p>Daichi loves making music. But it will never be his life, not after he graduates from university and leaves behind the years he spent playing his guitar to pursue his accounting degree, his desk job, the dull acoustics of computer keys.</p><p>This is what he thinks, until Suga steps into his world and adds a voice to his songs and a new light to everything he sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Esselle- So is this going to be pretty short? Or...  
> Me- Yeah, I think so...I mean, it's not going to need chapters or anything.  
> Esselle- *eyes me knowingly*  
> Me- *dumps feelings all over the place and watches the word count grow*
> 
> Rated for later chapters (*^‿^*)

It's Daichi's favorite time of day, when the sun is getting low and falling heavy and rich on everything it touches. He likes to get outside if he can, on the days he's out of class in time, and find a quiet place to sit, just him and the guitar in his hands.

He won't have this much longer, these golden evenings on campus, picking out the sound of the setting sun. Graduation is only a week away and then Daichi doesn't know exactly where he’ll be or what he’ll be doing. He just knows it will all be a lot more real, a lot less soft and easy, and he's not entirely sure he's ready for it.

He puts it out of his mind, focuses on the press of steel strings against the calloused pads of his fingers. The sleek wood of his guitar, smooth and comforting on his lap, against his chest, and the warm stone of the bench beneath him. He closes his eyes and feels the soft chords he strums as much as he hears them.

“That's my favorite one.”

Daichi opens his eyes, blinks in the thick glow of light just before it turns from honey yellow to shades of peach and rose.

He doesn't know this now, but he'll always remember these colors, this feeling, the scent of honeysuckle on the air the first time he heard that voice.

The sun is behind the speaker, so his face is shadowed and Daichi can't see him clearly, just the low light casting a halo around soft, silver hair.

“What's that?” he asks, not sure he caught the words right.

“I like that one the best,” the stranger says, stepping closer to Daichi and then becoming clear all of a sudden when he sits down right next to him.

Daichi takes in warm brown eyes, wide and kind. Skin pale and soft, adorned here and there with little beauty marks—one in the crook of his elbow, one at the corner of his left eye.

Daichi is staring. He still isn't quite sure what's happening.

“I see you around here a lot,” the slender man continues. “I stop and listen to you play on my way to get dinner.”

“Oh, I…” Daichi doesn't want to say he's never noticed him, because that seems both insulting and extremely stupid. _How_ has he never noticed him?

“You didn't see me lingering, I know.” The man smiles and Daichi finds himself smiling, too, even though he's a little embarrassed and still a little confused. “I thought you would eventually, but I'm running out of time so...here I am.”

“Here you are,” Daichi says. He means it to be something of a question, but it comes out as more of a sigh of relief. Like he has been waiting for this all along. He feels his cheeks getting warm, and then the back of his neck. Warmer still when he sees the smile on this pretty stranger’s face and knows he heard it, too.

“I’m Suga,” he says. “Sugawara Koushi.”

“Hi,” Daichi says, brilliantly. And then, belatedly and with a bit of a laugh at his own awkwardness, “Sawamura Daichi. I’m...you can—”

“Daichi,” Suga says.

“Yes,” Daichi says. He's not entirely sure why, other than that voice makes him want to say it.

“Hi.”

Suga is teasing him, he's sure. But it makes him feel warm instead of stupid. It makes him want to be teased some more.

“Hi,” Daichi says again. “Are you graduating too, then?”

“I am,” Suga says with a nod, his bright eyed expression suggesting he feels more ready for this than Daichi does. “That's why I needed to talk to you now, before you set off for wherever you're going after this.”

Daichi laughs. “Not very far, I don't think.”

“No?” Suga asks, looking genuinely surprised.

Daichi studies his face, the soft, honest lines of it. Why is he sitting here right now?

“I don't know what I’m doing,” Daichi says, even though he hasn't said this to anyone else. Even though he is about to be awarded a degree in accounting that, his parents at least, would say means he has a very clear direction.

“I thought you were already doing it,” Suga says, gesturing to Daichi's guitar with slim, tapered fingers.

“This?” he asks, his own fingers brushing over the strings, and Suga nods. “This is just…” He shrugs, not sure what to say, or how much he even should say to this near stranger who feels disconcertingly familiar.

Suga smiles slightly. “There's nothing _just_ about it. That last one, especially. I…” He looks down at his hands, folded in his lap, before bringing his eyes back to Daichi's, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Daichi's heart skips a beat. “It always stays in my head...I sing it at night, when I can't fall asleep.”

There are so many questions on Daichi's tongue. The one that comes out is, “Why can't you sleep?”

“Because I didn't know your name,” Suga says, and now he's blushing and Daichi is, too. At least this time it can perhaps be seen as a result of the way the sky has turned from pastel hues to a saturated, fiery red. Suga ducks his head suddenly, pressing his palms to his cheeks. “God, that was so cheesy.”

Daichi doesn't know what to say. He doesn't care if it was cheesy, and he can't stop himself from reaching to take hold of those narrow wrists and pull at them gently until he can see Suga's face again. “What do you sing? I've never...I don't write lyrics, just the music.”

“I always wondered, if there were words...but I just started writing my own.”

“To my songs,” Daichi says. Suga nods. The light is so rich now, right on the cusp of fading into night, that if his skin is flushed still, Daichi can't even tell. He adjusts the guitar in his hands, angling his body so he won't bump Suga with it, and starts to play. “Sing,” he says, and a moment later, Suga does.

His voice is everything Daichi loves about these evenings. Warm and soft and a little raspy. The breeze that glides over his skin and the pebbles that catch in the soles of his shoes. It's beautiful and so is the man it’s coming from, and Daichi still doesn't really understand how or why this is happening. He tries to listen to the words, but all he really catches is the rise and fall of the voice, the way Suga's lips move and his eyes fall on Daichi's hands as he plays.

“This is what you'll do,” Daichi says, when the song has come to an end and there are no more chords for him to play, no more words for him to hear.

Suga smiles. “Well, technically. I’m going to teach music, to little kids.”

“And make it,” Daichi says. “You need to make music, too.”

“Need to, huh?” Suga asks. “You sound considerably more certain about my future than your own.”

“Maybe,” Daichi says. “Maybe that means you have the answers to mine.”

“I already told you. Sure, you can become a lawyer, or a professor, or whatever it is you don't really want to do—”

“Accountant,” Daichi says.

Suga wrinkles his nose. “Oh God.”

Daichi doesn't even consider being offended by this reaction. It's genuine and it's exactly how he feels, too.

“It's the worst,” he says.

“The worst!” Suga agrees. “Why are you doing it?”

“I don't know. My family is full of accountants and I didn't know what to do, and—”

“This!” Suga says, reaching out to rest one hand on Daichi's guitar and the other on his shoulder. Daichi shivers and he has to sternly direct himself to focus on Suga's next words. “You can be an accountant for a while, but you also do this, and you keep doing it until it's all you have to do.”

“And what about you?” Daichi asks.

“ _I_ will be singing nursery rhymes and clapping rhythms for my dear little charges to repeat.”

“And…”

“And what? What is it that you want me to do, Daichi?” Suga asks. Daichi is certain he's being teased again and he likes it very much. He likes the lilt in Suga's voice and the arch of his eyebrow. He really likes the way Suga has leaned closer to him.

“Sing with me again,” Daichi says.

“Is that all?”

It probably should be, but it isn't. It is only one of the many things Daichi wants Suga to do right now, certainly the only one he can say out loud.

“For now,” he says, because he’s afraid of what might happen if he says more. Either possibility, Suga coming even closer or pulling away, is just about equally terrifying with how much Daichi is feeling so suddenly.

“I can't do that now,” Suga says, and Daichi feels himself deflate.

“Oh,” he says. “That's alright, I’m—” He was about to make something up about how he has to go soon anyway. Even though if Suga has been watching him, he probably knows Daichi usually stays out until the sky is dark enough for the stars to be bright. Suga is lightly touching Daichi’s shoulder again though, and that teasing smile is still there.

“I have to meet a friend to study, but I'll find you tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” Daichi says again. “Okay. I’ll be—”

“I know all your spots,” Suga says.

Daichi swallows, and also, most unfortunately, unconsciously runs his tongue over his lips, like it wasn't already obvious enough what he's thinking right now. “Then...then I'll see you tomorrow,” he manages to say.

Suga nods, getting to his feet. “Goodnight, Daichi.”

Daichi nods to him and holds onto the edge of the bench with a white-knuckled grip, because he's never been so tempted to do something so _not him._ To get up and follow Suga wherever he's going. To pull him somewhere quiet and convince him to go somewhere else, anywhere else, with him.

When he lies in bed that night, in his quiet, tidy dorm room, he hums that song, that one he's never named but has always loved, and it's Suga's voice he hears in his head.

*

Daichi almost doesn't go out the next night. He sits in his room with his guitar leaning against his bed, and wonders if maybe it would be better if he just didn't see Suga again. Because he couldn't really be everything Daichi remembers from last night. He couldn't have been that charming, that attractive, that interested in Daichi. His voice couldn't have been that lovely and perfectly matched to Daichi's playing.

In the end he stands up around the time he always does, when the light coming through his small window starts to shift, and prepares himself to be both disappointed and relieved. When Suga doesn't come, or when he comes and Daichi realizes he made him into something he wasn't in his head, it will be easier to move along. To graduate and get a job and accept that music will just be something he does for himself, playing alone in a little apartment somewhere. By then the voice in his head will have faded away, and it won't matter that there aren't any words. That someone out there knows exactly what he wants to say even though he does not.

He goes to another one of his favorite haunts, the base of the stairs leading up to one of the buildings lining an old courtyard on the quieter side of campus. He's a little worried that even if Suga really does come looking for him, he won't know about this spot. But if he _does,_ and if he is, by some chance, exactly what Daichi remembers, he thinks he might like Suga to find him somewhere a little more private than where they were last night.

He gets comfortable and tries to relax. To just feel the warm evening air and the familiar weight of his guitar on his lap. He closes his eyes and plays, quiet melodies following the beat of his worn shoe tapping against the concrete at his feet.

It's hard to tell how much time passes before he feels someone beside him, but when he opens his eyes it's to see the sky already at its most brilliant red, and Suga right next to him, his slim legs stretching out in front of him so the first thing Daichi does is trace the length of them with his eyes, before he lets his gaze travel the rest of the way up to the same face that captivated him last night.

Suga doesn't say anything, he just smiles and starts to sing, and Daichi almost cries because his imagination isn't _this_ good, and this must be real. This guy and this voice and this heat in Daichi's veins that makes him restless and hopeful.

He's not sure what he would say even if his mouth wasn't so alarmingly dry, so he just plays, one song after another, and Suga sings or hums along to every one, as if they are partners and this is a familiar pastime. Something they've done time and time again.

It's not until they've reached that song from the night before, the one that brought Suga to him, that Daichi notices something other than the sound of Suga's voice weaving around the hum of his guitar, and realizes they are far from alone now. A crowd has grown around them. Students sitting on the staircases of the other buildings, standing or lounging in the soft grass of the courtyard. Some of them talk quietly, some flip through textbooks on their laps, but it's clear that they've all wandered over here and chosen to stay because they're listening, eyes turned to Daichi and Suga, heads bobbing along to the same steady beat as Daichi's foot on the ground.

People have stopped to listen to him before, offered kind words and even coins that he's always waved away, thanking them and telling them he's not trying to make money. There's never been a crowd like this though, never a spontaneous round of applause ringing out in the darkening night when he finishes, like the one that is setting his heart racing now. Or maybe that's because Suga has taken his hand and is pulling him to his feet, encouraging Daichi to take a bow. Daichi ducks his head and squeezes Suga's hand.

“Still don't know what you're doing?” Suga asks, leaning close so Daichi can hear him. His silky hair brushes Daichi's ear, and he is momentarily incapable of processing any kind of reply.

“This is for you,” he says finally, when the applause has been replaced by voices, friends chatting and making plans for the rest of the evening, some calling out to Daichi and Suga, telling them they hope they'll see them again.

“That's sweet,” Suga says, “but no one has ever responded like that when I've sung before.”

“Then you should keep singing with me,” Daichi says. His hand is still tight around Suga’s, and this time he's not going to leave it at that. That's not all he wants.

“Right now?” Suga asks. “Here?”

“No,” Daichi says. “Yes, another night. But tonight you should…” Oh, it is harder to be bold outside of his thoughts, to trust that this silvery creature looking up at him is feeling just what he is now.

“What should I do, Daichi?”

Daichi knows he is doomed to fumbling words, or to perfect thoughts unsaid, if he keeps going the way he is. So he speaks with his hands instead, not on his guitar like he usually does, but on Suga's skin, his free hand reaching to cup a soft cheek, to stroke over it with his thumb. His other hand pulling at Suga's, their fingers still laced together, and bringing them both to his chest. He knows Suga will feel his heart pounding against the the back of his hand, and he hopes that will help speak for him, too.

“You can say it,” Suga says, leaning into him so their chests would be touching were it not for their hands pressed between them. “I noticed you because I heard your music, but that's not the only reason I kept coming back. It's not the reason I had to talk to you before the year ended.”

“You should come to my room,” Daichi says. It’s easier, now, with Suga so close to him that Daichi can just look at his lips when he speaks.

“Is it nearby?” Suga asks.

Daichi tries to think, to work out how long it would take them to walk there, but Suga is _so_ close, his breath is warm and sweet on Daichi's face. Instead of answering, he closes his eyes and kisses him.

Suga’s lips are impossibly soft. It's too much to expect himself to only brush his own lips over them, to kiss him as chastely as he can here in this public place. He can't stop his tongue from slipping out and tasting them, drawing wet lines over a full bottom lip, tracing the little bow in the center of the upper lip, before fitting his mouth over it and letting his hand slide back into Suga’s hair to pull him closer.

Suga comes easily, already wrapping his arm around Daichi’s neck, mouth opening for him. He tilts his head and hums, that same sultry scrape in his throat that he gets when he sings, when Daichi's tongue slips inside and winds around his.

Someone whistles and they break apart. Just enough that their lips aren't touching, not enough that they aren't still breathing the same air.

“Daichi?”

“It's not close enough,” Daichi says. His room. Suga's body. He's not going to make it to the other side of campus before he forgets himself completely in the other man’s taste.

Suga steps back, leaving his hand in Daichi's and leaning to pick up the guitar. “Come on.”

“No, it's too far. Let's just—”

“That's what we're doing,” Suga says.

Daichi just follows, out of the courtyard and through the side entrance of a building, down a quiet hallway and into a quieter classroom, lit only by bright lamp posts outside half shuttered windows. Suga places Daichi's guitar carefully on top of a desk, and Daichi sits on the one next to it and pulls Suga to him, spreading his legs so Suga can stand between them.

Their lips come back together like there was no interruption, with Suga's fingers on Daichi's shoulders now, tracing over them and then pressing warm palms against his chest. Daichi feels like he can't get close enough, even though Suga's tongue is in his mouth, his hips pressing against the insides of Daichi's thighs. The smooth skin of his back is cool on Daichi's hands as he slides them under his shirt to draw Suga even closer.

It's like when he's playing his guitar, kissing Suga. He loses track of time and space, aware only of sound and sensation. Heavy breaths and airy sighs. His own heart pounding, lips tingling, hands grasping at soft flesh above slim, rounded hips.

Suga pulls him off the desk and they fall into a metal chair, Suga on his lap, Daichi's hands everywhere they can reach as their mouths continue to move together. Pulling apart just to look at each other through heavy-lidded eyes, to take in flushed skin and wet lips, before leaning into another dizzying press of lips and tongues.

He kisses Suga until his head is spinning, until Suga’s fingers are brushing softly at the back of his hair and their movements slow. Lips coming together and apart with gentle, sleepy motions, until Suga's forehead rests against his and they're just breathing each other in.

“I knew you'd be a good kisser,” Suga says quietly. Daichi can just see soft cheeks rising and knows he needs to spend more time with this man in his arms, so he can perfectly picture the accompanying smile.

“How did you know?” he asks.

“I have excellent instincts.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. I knew someone who made music like you do had to be someone worth knowing.”

“You don't know me yet, though,” Daichi says. “I could be a terrible person.”

Suga leans back and Daichi can see him better now, eyes hazy and warm. “Are you?”

Daichi shrugs. “I lost a library book this year.”

“And then you paid for it, didn't you.”

“Possibly,” Daichi admits. “But I could still be dangerous.”

“You _are_ dangerous. I have three exams this week that I need to study for, and I'm sitting here with you.”

“On me,” Daichi says.

Suga cocks an eyebrow. “You're a bit of a flirt, Sawamura Daichi.”

“Did your instincts not warn you about that?” Daichi asks, even though he's not, really. He's just tipsy on the taste of Suga's lips and it's making him candid and confident.

“Don't you worry about my instincts,” Suga says, leaning back in to kiss Daichi's cheek. “They're rock solid. And you…”

“Hmm?” Daichi asks, watching as Suga seems to lose his train of thought, his fingers trailing over Daichi's chest and then up to his shoulders, massaging at the base of his neck.

“I'm trying not to make a pun,” Suga says and Daichi laughs.

“I kind of like puns.”

“I'll keep that in mind, not everyone appreciates a good pun. But what I was going to say, before I got distracted…” He slides his hands over Daichi's biceps and kneads his fingers into them, and Daichi is so absurdly pleased at the attention that he feels the back of his neck go hot. “Was that you need to keep letting people hear you. Don't give up on that when we graduate. Don't think it's something you have to leave behind.”

Daichi is a little distracted himself, by Suga’s hands working over his arms, and his own hands brushing up and down the curve of Suga's waist, but he doesn't miss what he says, or the little thrill it gives him. The idea that the rest of his life could be more than stuffy office buildings and the sounds of fingers tapping on keyboards.

“I’ll keep playing if you keep singing,” Daichi says.

“I sing in the shower daily,” Suga says, “So that shouldn't be a hard promise to—”

“With me,” Daichi says. “Keep singing with me?”

He doesn't want to assume. He doesn't want to be pushy or needy. But more than that, he wants to know this wasn't a one time thing, a brief, bright moment. The sunset duet or the best kiss he's ever had. He wants to know they can repeat them both.

“If you'd like me to,” Suga says.

“I...think I need you to,” Daichi tells him. It's too honest, too much to be saying to this guy he only met the night before. He's going to scare him away and—

“Me too,” Suga says. “That felt...really good, out there.”

Daichi nods. He doesn't need to say that it felt good in here, too. He knows it’s obvious, in the way his hands are still moving over Suga's back, that he wants more of this, as much as he wants more of what they had with his music and Suga's words. He knows Suga feels the same from the way he rests his head against Daichi's again and sighs into his ear, content and familiar, like he's right where he belongs.

Daichi can’t help worrying, because things like this don't just happen. They've certainly never happened to him. But his instincts are usually pretty good, too. He knows when something feels wrong and when something feels right, unlikely as it may be. He's not going to talk himself out of this, or talk himself into being level-headed and responsible, the way he talked himself right into a major that has bored him for the past four years, and a future that makes him feel heavy and tired.

With Suga here, talking quietly to Daichi now, his body warm and comfortable on his lap, he feels light, weightless even.

He walks Suga to his building later, one hand holding his guitar, the other brushing against Suga's, and even though a chapter of his life is coming to an end, he feels like everything is beginning.

“I have an exam in the evening tomorrow,” he tells Suga before they say goodnight. “I’ll be out Friday night, though. I mean, not _out,_ I’ll be—”

“I’ll be there,” Suga says, smiling. “If you ask for my number and then call me beforehand, I may even get there at the same time as you.”

“I...oh, I should have...”

Suga is laughing gently, leaning into Daichi's shoulder. “I could have asked for yours. I just didn't want to force myself on you any more than I already was.”

“I...really wouldn't complain about that,” Daichi says.

“Hmm,” Suga says, taking Daichi's phone from his hand after he slips it from his pocket. “I’ll add that to my mental list of things Daichi likes.”

“You can put that one above puns,” Daichi says, watching Suga add a new contact to his phone and tap his number in. “If you're prioritizing.”

“Noted.”

Daichi wants to kiss Suga again, and so he does. Slow and soft, with their fingers tangled together around the neck of his guitar.

When he falls into bed after walking (floating?) to his own room, he can still feel those slim fingers between his own. He's back up a minute later, his guitar in his hands, playing something new, something sprung from wide, brown eyes and a smooth, pale neck.

He can't wait to play it outside of this room, or to hear what Suga will do with it, what he’ll add to it and where he'll take it. He can't get over how good it feels to be _excited_ about something, how long it's been since he's felt anything more than complacency.

He doesn't fall asleep until the earliest risers are shuffling out of their rooms in search of coffee and study partners, and he doesn't feel tired at all when he wakes four hours later to set his guitar aside and cover his bed with coursework to be reviewed.

There is less than a week left until graduation, and for the first time Daichi feels like maybe he's going to something better than what he'll be leaving behind. Maybe more golden evenings than he can count, in places he hasn't been yet, with a voice in his ear that's filled with more light and color than any sunset he's ever played into the night.

*

Daichi calls Suga that day, even though he won’t see him until the next. Perhaps because he won’t see him until the next. They talk for an hour while they both take a break from studying, and Daichi has to resist the urge, over and over, to ask if he can see Suga right then. Run to wherever he is and feel his hair between his fingers again, his lips soft and yielding under Daichi’s tongue. He doesn’t know what would be too much though, even though it was Suga who approached him, Suga who found him again and pulled him into that empty classroom.

In the end, he has two text messages from Suga waiting when he gets out of his exam that night, and he feels much less alone in his desperation.

 **Suga  
** _meet me by the vending machines outside my dorm when you finish?_

 **Suga  
** _CANNOT stay up late tonight but i want to see you_

Daichi doesn’t take the time to text back, he just hurries to Suga’s building and finds him there, sitting with his back to a machine full of refrigerated drinks and a book on his lap. The back of his neck is cold to the touch when Daichi kneels in front of him and pulls him into a kiss, hungry and probably far too eager. What if this isn’t even why Suga wanted to see him?

“Come inside,” Suga says, right against Daichi’s lips. He knows he means inside the building, his room, maybe his bed, but all Daichi can think about is Suga’s body opening to his, and the image makes his whole body tense up as a shiver runs through him.

“You can’t stay up late,” Daichi forces himself to say.

“Don’t pay such good attention to my messages, Daichi,” Suga says, pressing cool kisses down the side of his neck. He smells sweet, like the cherry cola Daichi could taste on his tongue.

“You yelled it,” Daichi reminds him. “All caps.”

“Twenty minutes,” Suga says.

“Thirty,” Daichi counters, because he knows already how quickly time flies with Suga’s lips on his, and he knows they both want far more than that.

“You switched sides,” Suga says. “You were supposed to—”

“Let’s go,” Daichi says, getting up and pulling Suga to his feet. He doesn’t care what he’s supposed to do. Not now that he knows the magic of doing what he _wants_ to. Not when Suga is grinning at him and wearing this soft, loose shirt with a deep v-neck that’s showing too much of his lean, fair-skinned chest for Daichi’s mind to really even function. He goes straight for Suga’s clavicle when they get into his room, falling into his bed and closing his lips over those perfect bones rising from Suga’s chest like wings.

Suga makes that humming sound in his throat again and his fingers slip under the back of Daichi’s shirt. “I should have...mmm, talked to you sooner,” he says.

“Why didn’t you?” Daichi asks, running his tongue up the smooth column of Suga’s neck, licking at the beauty mark hiding under the corner of his jaw.

“I was a little afraid...that my instincts might be wrong.”

“Your rock solid instincts?”

“Hmm...well, they’re probably not completely infallible, and it would have been so disappointing if you’d been... _oh,_ Daichi.” Suga’s head tips back and he bites his lip when Daichi pulls his earlobe into his mouth and sucks it gently. “If you weren’t what I hoped you were, or if you _were_ and you weren’t interested in me, or were already with someone.”

“That’s fair,” Daichi says. “Honestly with how dense I was, never noticing you, I’m surprised you didn’t just write me off.”

“Not dense,” Suga says, shifting under Daichi so he can raise his knees on either side of Daichi’s hips. “So adorably oblivious. So _focused.”_ He furrows his brow when he says this and Daichi laughs and kisses his forehead. “I actually loved it, watching you when you were in your own world. I wanted so badly to know what you were thinking.”

“Oh God,” Daichi says. “Here’s where the disappointment will hit you.”

Suga smiles up at him and Daichi feels so warm, so overwhelmingly secure in the knowledge that nothing he says right now is going to let Suga down.

“I’m usually not thinking anything at all,” he admits. “It’s my favorite time because I just...feel and listen and don’t do anything else.”

“That’s...very sexy, Daichi,” Suga says, his legs wrapping around Daichi’s waist.

“Is it?”

“Do that with me, okay? We still have twenty minutes to just...feel.” Suga rolls his hips under Daichi and they both gasp when their hardening erections rub together. “And listen,” Suga adds, but Daichi is already doing that, does not need to be told not to think right now, because he _can't._ He leans back over Suga, ready to kiss him for every one of those twenty minutes, and the only thing in his head is a happy buzz, a jangling that works its way through his limbs and into the pit of his stomach.

He’s never done this, been in someone else’s bed like this so soon after meeting them. He’s only slept with two people, and in both cases it was only after they’d been dating for months—the first in his second year of university, and the next in his third. He’s not thinking about that now though, or about anything else except how good Suga’s body feels under his as they kiss, how they move together until their legs are tangled, one of Suga’s between Daichi’s.

He doesn’t mean to, but with his cock pressed against Suga’s thigh he can’t keep his hips from rocking, turning the pressure into friction, and when Suga lets out a little raspy moan, his hips move again of their own volition. And again, harder, when Suga starts to rut up against him in the same way.

“Oh my God, Daichi...I...” Suga is blushing, his fingers twisting in the back of Daichi’s t-shirt.

“Don’t stop,” Daichi says, begs, almost, because what if Suga stops but he can’t get himself to do the same? He shifts so their cocks are pressed together again, and he knows where this is going to go if he keeps up like this—rolling his hips to grind his length against Suga’s—but how could he possibly stop?

“I won’t,” Suga says, eyes wide and darker than usual, fingers lacing together at the back of Daichi’s neck and drawing him closer. “I won’t.”

Daichi doesn’t know how long they stay like that, listening to each other pant, feeling each breath on their faces between sloppy kisses, technique lost to the movement of their bodies. This wasn’t what he planned to do, not so soon, but he wants it so much. Wants it more with every drag of Suga’s tongue over his, every tremor of slim hips pinned beneath him.

“How much...time left?” he asks.

“Doesn’t matter,” Suga says. “I can’t... _mmm, Daichi._ Like that...keep doing that.”

Daichi is gripping Suga’s hips, pulling them into his own, grinding into him so hard now he’s almost afraid he’ll hurt him. But their stupid jeans are in the way and Suga isn’t acting like it hurts, he’s moaning and arching his back off the bed, and—

“Fuck, Suga…” Daichi’s voice comes out almost panicked. How has this happened so fast? How are his muscles already clenching, his stomach tightening? He slides his hands underneath Suga to grasp the soft curves of his ass and pull him even closer, and the buzzing that has been making his head go fuzzy since Suga started rocking against him becomes a roar of blood in his ears. “I’m...shit, I’m—”

“Yes,” Suga gasps, and Daichi leans in to cover those parted lips with his own. He comes just like that, with Suga’s lip caught between his teeth, his hips held tightly against him as he spills inside his pants.

He’s breathless and drained and Suga is still rolling his hips, hasn’t come yet. But the drag of friction against his sensitive cock is too much, even through his jeans. He rolls them over so he’s on his back, wedging his leg between Suga’s so the other man can easily grind against his thigh now, and this is good for so many reasons. He likes having Suga on top of him, likes the way his loose shirt hangs down and he can see right into it, and the way Suga leans his head back so Daichi can watch his face, can stare up at him in a daze as Suga’s cock presses hard into his leg in jerky thrusts. He gets to see the way his brows crease, the almost pained expression of overwhelming pleasure and relief at the exact moment he hits his climax and comes with a gasp on Daichi’s lap.

He can barely grasp it, the fact that he’s witnessing this right now. This beautiful man with pink lips slick and swollen from his kisses, who he didn’t even know existed a few days ago, and is now allowing Daichi to see him so intimately. There are so many things Daichi doesn’t know about him, but he knows what he looks like when he’s taken over by instinct and desire, knows how he feels when he sinks to Daichi’s chest with a sigh, sweaty and sated, and it doesn’t feel wrong, somehow. Even though it’s out of order, it’s so much, so soon. It doesn’t feel rushed or in any way like something he should be ashamed of. It feels like he’s doing just what he should be, what he always should have been doing. Because Suga’s voice never sounded like a stranger’s, even the first time he heard it.

“You know,” Suga says a few minutes later, minutes filled with slowing breaths and Daichi’s hands smoothing up and down Suga’s back. “When I asked you to meet me, I was trying to think of some kind of legitimate excuse, in case you showed up and asked what I wanted to talk about.”

“Did you think of anything?” Daichi asks.

“No, I was too distracted thinking about kissing you. What are you doing to me, Daichi?”

Daichi smiles and rubs his nose into Suga’s hair so he can feel it against his face and take in that light, sweet scent. “Maybe the same thing you’ve done to me. You may have noticed I didn’t even give you a chance to talk, I just attacked you.”

“I did notice,” Suga says. “I’ll be filing a complaint with campus security shortly.”

“Someone has to stop me,” Daichi says with a nod that bumps his chin into Suga’s head.

“Ow…honestly, you’re a menace.”

Daichi kisses Suga’s head and Suga rubs his face against Daichi’s neck, and then groans and sits up suddenly. “Do not let me start cuddling with you, I have to study.”

“I can’t force you to do anything, Suga,” Daichi says. “I’m already in trouble with campus security, so if you want to cuddle there’s really nothing I can do about it.”

Suga laughs and clings to Daichi even tighter. “Make me mooove.”

“Can’t do it. I don’t know what you want from me here. We’ve already established that I have zero problem with you forcing yourself on me, so…”

“God dammit, Daichi, I’m going to fail. I won’t graduate and I’ll be singing for my supper on the streets of Tokyo, while you—”

“While I’m banging my head against the wall of my cubicle? Maybe I’ll just fail with you.”

“Well that sounds like something I could get behind,” Suga says, butting his head under Daichi’s chin and wiggling on him like he’s settling in for good. “We’ll become professional buskers together.”

“I’m in,” Daichi says. He wraps his arms around Suga’s back and closes his eyes, and he can almost see himself really doing it, really being okay with throwing everything else to the wind and relying only on Suga’s voice, a battered guitar, and the way he feels when Suga is close to him.

Eventually he does sit up, and Suga grumbles and slides off of him.

“Tomorrow,” Daichi says, after he’s kissed Suga again, and then again, while they stand at Suga’s door. “I might have a new song.”

Suga’s eyes get bright. “I might need to hear it.”

“You know where to find me.”

“Thank you, for acknowledging my stalking skills.”

“Maybe they’ll come in handy when we’re on the streets.”

“Get out,” Suga says, grinning and pushing Daichi out his door. “I’ll see you at sunset.”

Daichi nods and pulls Suga’s door closed behind him. He smiles like a fool the whole walk back to his own building. He takes an embarrassingly long shower, leaning hard on the cold tile of the shower wall with his forearm pressed against it, his mouth buried in the crook of his elbow in case the pounding water isn’t enough to mask his moans as he moves his other hand over his cock. He’s still so sensitive, his orgasm builds too quickly for him to work up any kind of detailed fantasy in his mind. It’s just images of a toned, pale chest, a delicate chin tipping up, long legs spreading and inviting him between them.

He reads Suga’s text messages when he gets out _(An HOUR Daichi! You have a case for that guitar of yours right? We’ll need something for passersby to drop their coins in when we commence our new lives as street performers),_ and settles in to study for the rest of his exams. He hasn’t completely lost his mind, he knows he can’t throw away his hard work all through college, knows neither one of them is really going to fail or abandon the careers they’ve prepared for.

He’s also not going to abandon this other thing, whatever this is, with Suga. This possibility. This ball of light that’s taken up residence in his chest and is coloring everything around him, giving it a glow that he’s only ever seen when the sun is getting lazy in the sky, too tired to reign itself in and keep its light from pouring out and collecting along the edges of everything in its path. He wonders what he would look like, if he could see himself in that kind of light. If it’s the way he looks when Suga is smiling at him. If maybe the way Suga shines in his eyes is the same way the other man sees him.

It’s all a little bit too much, all of these thoughts, all these images lighting up behind his eyes and making his chest tight. He’s afraid, even though he doesn’t want to be. Even though he’s not going to let it stop him. He’d rather get too close to the sun and let it consume him altogether, than step back into the shadows now that he knows how much there is to see.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because tonight, the world turned in me.  
> Because right now, I don't dare to breathe.  
> Oh, babe, I know, it's alive and somewhere for us to find tonight  
> [Chase this light with me.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxTQtOGXHZg)
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you Jimmy Eat World for providing the perfect title and song for this fic, and [Esselle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle) for editing (and for encouraging me to embrace my inability to write this as a one shot and run with it).
> 
> And thank you for reading! I'll be updating on Saturday!
> 
> [[Tumblr](http://ellessey-writes.tumblr.com/)]


	2. Chapter 2

Daichi does his best to focus throughout the following day. He puts Suga (and that smile of his, and the way his eyebrow quirks up when he’s teasing Daichi, always the left one) at the back of his mind, and buckles down to write his last exams. The last things he’ll ever have to do on this campus that he doesn’t want to. After this it will just be one more go of his favorite thing, the thing that carried him through every year he’s spent here, that has somehow become even more necessary, more _everything,_ now that it’s shared with someone else.

He chooses his last location carefully, settling on the top row of the tiered, stone seating encircling the amphitheater in the middle of campus. It might make more sense to be down in the grass at its center, the stage, but he’s not playing for an audience—he’s playing for the colors bleeding into each other and the shifting shadows waiting for the night to claim them. He’s playing for himself, and he’s playing for the slight figure making its way up the steps towards him now.

“You’ve got this a little backwards,” Suga says when he reaches the top. Then he turns to face west like Daichi, and a little _oh_ falls from his lips. “Is it always this beautiful?”

Daichi shakes his head. Sometimes the sun just sinks into the horizon without anything spectacular happening, just a gradual darkening of the sky. Tonight though, it seems to know that it’s a night of celebration. Commencement is tomorrow, Suga’s hand is in his. It’s a night for brilliant displays of color, for everything they both have to give, before Daichi is watching the day end from different places. An office window, the postage stamp sized terrace of the equally tiny apartment he’ll be moving into next week, the street corners he’ll maybe, hopefully, find himself on, beside a silver-haired man with a voice that sounds like summer coming.

“It’s special tonight,” Daichi says and Suga smiles. He sits close beside him when Daichi settles down with his guitar in his lap, his legs stretched out to the tier below them.

They play just like the time before, Daichi focused on the music vibrating against his chest, on Suga’s voice rising above it. He remembers some of the words, has heard them echoing in his head since Suga first sang them, and he sings along now. His voice seems to come out deeper and richer than it sounds in his room, with Suga’s voice lilting above it, finding the harmony to his melody.

It’s not long before students start to drift their way, and the audience quickly grows far beyond the fiery clouds and shivering blades of grass that they played for when they began.

“Daichi, _look,”_ Suga whispers before they start the last song, the one he wrote because of Suga.

Daichi already sees them, how many people are sitting on the seats below them, but he can’t quite process it. There are so many, and they’re so quiet and intent, like this was all planned out from the beginning. Daichi and Suga together, these students spending their Friday night listening to gentle strumming and Suga’s haunting refrains.

This last one isn’t melancholy though, this one is born of pink lips and a star at the corner of a wide, bright eye. This one is all light and anticipation, and even though Suga is only hearing it for the first time right now, he seems to already know it. To know where his voice should sink into the pockets and where it should soar.

The applause when they finish, both bowing their heads in thanks to the eager listeners getting to their feet around them, seems thunderous in the quiet of the night.

He still feels it in his chest an hour later, when they’ve said goodnight to everyone who hung around wanting to chat, and it’s just him and Suga. It's echoed by his pounding heart when Suga climbs on top of him in the cool grass and kisses him until they’re both breathless, and too dry-mouthed and overwhelmed to keep going.

“That was amazing,” Suga says, rolling off of Daichi to sprawl out right next to him, chin tipped up, the yellow lights surrounding the amphitheater warm on his pale skin.

“That was crazy,” Daichi says.

Suga is suddenly back up again, kneeling beside Daichi and patting on his chest with both hands in rapid succession. “Daichi!”

“Hm? Stop hitting me.”

“I can’t,” Suga says. “I’m too excited. Why don’t you always sing when you play?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t wanted to before.”

“Before me?” Suga asks, smiling and still tapping out a hyperactive rhythm on Daichi’s ribcage.

“Before you, little drummer boy,” Daichi says, grabbing Suga’s arms and pulling him back on top of himself.

Suga lets himself be pulled and stretches out over Daichi, right where he was a minute before. “You should always sing, Daichi. Your voice is…” Daichi watches a dusting of pink work its way across Suga’s cheekbones, and wonders if his voice does to Suga what Suga’s does to him. “....honestly really gorgeous,” he finishes.

“I’m glad you like it,” Daichi says, looking up at Suga’s starry eyes and wondering how this is happening to him.

“Promise me,” Suga says, propping himself up with his elbows pressing into Daichi’s chest. “Promise we’ll keep doing this.”

“Why are you so intent on leaving me bruised?” Daichi asks, nudging Suga’s arms until he removes his elbows and sits up on Daichi’s hips instead.

“Daichi.”

“I promise,” Daichi says. “We’ll keep doing this. We’re both staying in Tokyo, right?”

He knows that they are. It was one of the first things he’d asked Suga when they sat and talked in the empty classroom two nights earlier.  

“Right. I’m going home with my parents tomorrow, just for two weeks, and then I’ll be back.”

“Then I’ll be waiting.”

Suga smiles and leans down to brush his lips over Daichi’s. “I think I’m on the brink of dehydration. Let’s get something to drink, and then I’ll give you a few more bruises to keep you company while I’m gone.”

“I wish I’d been aware of your violent tendencies before I went and f—” Daichi stops abruptly, wishing there was some way to backpedal, to take back those last few words that obviously were meant to end in something he shouldn’t be saying yet. _Before I went and fell for you. Before you changed my life in the course of one conversation._

He swallows and Suga looks down at him, eyes dark and mouth settled in a solemn line that Daichi’s not sure he’s even seen on his face until now. “Before what?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Daichi says, shaking his head. “I...I don’t know what I was saying.” He knows exactly what he was about to say, what he’s feeling, but he doesn’t know how he can be feeling it with so much certainty. He doesn’t know how Suga could possibly feel the same.

Suga studies his face a moment longer with those knowing eyes, and Daichi feels like he sees right into him, like he’s been able to do that since whenever he first started watching Daichi play and knew the words that belonged with his songs.

“Number one on the list of things Daichi likes,” he says, mouth still serious, but eyes now glinting playfully as he leans in and tugs the collar of Daichi’s shirt away from his neck. “Forceful Suga,” he adds, and then he seals his lips over the skin right below Daichi’s collarbone, and sucks until he really is bruised.

“Do it again,” Daichi says, because if Suga knows what he’s thinking and doesn’t want to run away, if he wants to mark him with his lips, and then come back to him to kiss whatever bit of color doesn’t fade from Daichi’s skin while they’re apart, then he wants to be marked over and over.

“In my room,” Suga says. He gets off of Daichi and holds one of his hands with both of his own to help him to his feet.

They get drinks from the same set of vending machines outside Suga’s dormitory, lemon water for Daichi and soda for Suga. When Suga pulls Daichi’s shirt off in his room and paints constellations across his chest and back with his tongue, his breath is sugary sweet, his lips cold and soothing when he presses them softly to every mark he makes.  

“You like that?” he asks, when he’s worked his way down low on Daichi’s stomach, and Daichi gasps and jerks beneath him at the wet suction right above the waistband of his jeans. He’s gotten so hard over the last twenty minutes of Suga’s ministrations that he’s starting to wonder if he could come just from a perfect mouth sucking the blood to the surface of his skin.

“I think you—ah...I think you’ve given me sufficient evidence to take to campus security. I’ll show them who the real— _fuck, Suga...”_ Suga is sucking on his hipbone now, hard, and it’s too much, too good.

“What’s that?” Suga asks.

“ _Y_ _ou_ are the menace,” Daichi says. He grabs Suga around the waist before he can push him any closer to the edge, and they wrestle for a minute, Suga shrieking and laughing in his arms, until they end up with Suga flat on his stomach and Daichi stretched on top of him, pinning him to the bed.

“Mm,” Suga hums beneath him. Daichi loves that sound. (He’s also a little worried that at some point he’ll get hard just hearing that rasp in Suga’s throat when he sings, if he keeps associating it with moments like this.) “So this is what you wanted.”

It wasn’t intentional, but now that he’s here, his cock pressed against Suga, he can’t argue with that. He definitely wants this, wants the give of the soft, rounded curves of Suga’s ass when Daichi rolls his hips experimentally, and feels himself press between them through the thin cotton of Suga’s shorts.

“Okay?” Daichi asks, before he lets himself rock against Suga again. “I feel like I'm crushing you.”

“Feels good,” Suga says. “I like it.”

“Things Suga likes,” Daichi says, brushing his nose through the soft hair at the back of Suga’s neck. “Cherry cola and being smothered.”

“Our lists make us both sound like nutjobs,” Suga says, and when Daichi laughs he shifts against Suga again, and is reminded of just how hard he is.

“Ah...Suga.” He rolls his hips again and breathes in deep, with his face still resting against Suga’s neck.

“Pull back just a bit,” Suga says, wiggling his hips. “So I can…”

Daichi spreads his legs wider so he can raise himself off of Suga a little. When he grinds against him again Suga has the room to roll his own hips, too, so while Daichi drags his cock through the cleft of Suga’s ass, the smaller man can rut against the mattress beneath them.

“Yeah,” Suga says, his voice muffled by the downy comforter against his face. “This is...perfect.”

“You sound like you can’t breathe,” Daichi says. He’s genuinely afraid of pressing all the air from Suga’s lungs.

“If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you,” Suga says.

“Unless you’re unconscious from oxygen deprivation.”

“Daichi…” Suga arches his back and lifts his ass, pressing it up against Daichi’s erection. “You need to do something about this, and I want you to do it with me, like this, so _move.”_

Daichi sits up so he’s just straddling Suga’s ass instead of covering him completely, and he moves. He braces himself with one hand on the bed next to Suga’s shoulder, and uses his other hand to push Suga’s shirt up and watch the play of muscles in his lean back as he moves with Daichi, meeting each roll of his hips and then grinding back down into the bed.

It’s so tempting like this, when all he’s doing is imagining the way Suga looks under these shorts, how he’d feel if Daichi pulled them out of the way and rubbed against his skin instead. It’s almost scary how much he wants to feel it, how much he wants to feel more, to get inside Suga and find out how his voice would sound with Daichi filling him up. How can he want to be so close to someone he’s only just met? How can he feel as close to him as he does already?

“Shit,” he says, dropping back on top of Suga. He can’t keep going the way he was, watching Suga, wanting more of him than he should take. He presses himself to Suga’s back and ruts harder against his ass, and Suga moans and lets himself be covered and closed in, with Daichi’s arms on either side of him, his hands over Suga's and their fingers locked together. “Don’t let me smother you,” he says against Suga’s ear.

“You can...press harder,” Suga says, though his voice is already light and shallow. “Don't judge me. I love...how strong you feel.”

Daichi has never felt like his mornings at the university’s fitness center have been more worthwhile than he does right now.

“Not judging,” he says, letting his weight rest fully on Suga and grinding harder still. “Just don’t want...to be responsible for your death.”

“Wanna keep me around?” Suga asks, the teasing tone still apparent in his voice despite his breathlessness.

Daichi can’t answer that, not without saying way too much about what he wants with Suga, so he just kisses the side of his neck and keeps going. The feeling of Suga’s body warm and pliant beneath his, and the images he can’t keep out of his head, send the heat gripping him into overdrive just as alarmingly quickly as the night before. Suga’s going to think he’s so easy, that he can’t last, but...

“Don’t...judge me,” Daichi says. But I’m gonna...”

Suga is panting under him, quick, gasping breaths puffing against the blanket so close to his mouth, and Daichi thinks that maybe it’s good that he’s already falling over the edge, already groaning into Suga’s hair and coming in his pants once again.

He gets up on his knees as soon as he feels like he can move, and Suga rolls onto his back under him, his face so flushed that Daichi is hit with an immediate rush of both guilt and gratification.

“Can I…?” he asks, bringing his hands to Suga’s hips. Suga nods, still breathing heavily, and Daichi cups his erection through his shorts.

“Not like that,” Suga says, cheeks burning brighter somehow. “Will you...I want you to touch me.”

Daichi hopes it’s not noticeable, the way his hands are shaking a little as he grips the sides of Suga’s soft jogger shorts and pulls them down. They slip off easily with Suga lifting his hips off the bed, and Daichi can already see his cock, flushed a rosy pink, through the flap in his boxers. He pulls those down, too, and can’t stop himself from staring—Suga is so beautiful. His hip bones sharp and perfectly angled under pale, delicate skin, his erection smooth and slightly curved towards his stomach, not too big or too small. Just right, just like the rest of him.

“Do you...have lube?” Daichi asks, belatedly realizing he’s directing the question at Suga’s dick, and then forcing himself to look up instead.

“Yeah, but I don’t think...I’m already pretty...”

He’s pretty wet. Really wet. Precum has gathered thick and shiny on the head of his cock and is running down the underside. Daichi rubs his palm over the tip in slow circles until his hand is slick, and then drags it over Suga’s length, so hot and hard in his grip.

“Ohh...Daichi.” Suga’s eyes start to roll back and he closes them and drops his head, chin tilting up as he rolls his hips to meet Daichi’s hand. “I swear to God, I’ll last longer when we...if we...”

“Me too,” Daichi says.

He doesn’t mind that it’s fast now. That being with Suga, just rubbing against him through their clothes, has gotten Suga this far. That has to mean that Daichi isn’t the only one responding so strongly. He’s not alone in whatever this is, this level of desire, of want, that he’s never felt before.

He strokes Suga slowly. Not because he wants to tease him, but because he’s so mesmerized by every bit of this—having Suga in his hand, watching the muscles in his stomach tense, deep pink spreading over milky white thighs.

Suga doesn’t rush him, he just keeps his eyes closed and lets Daichi work him over with measured pumps of his hand, moaning softly when he starts to tug a little harder with each stroke up, hips jerking when Daichi rubs his thumb over the tip to smooth away the moisture that keeps collecting there and drag it back down over his shaft.

“Is it...really weird...” Suga says, not opening his eyes, “that I thought about this...when I watched you play? Your hands...”

Daichi looks down at them, tanned and strong looking on Suga’s small, fair frame. “Dirty, but not weird,” he says, pumping faster now, imagining Suga watching him with thoughts like that in his head. “Did you get off on it?”

“Mm...yeah. But this is...so much better.”

Daichi thinks he can safely assume that the sight of Suga jerking himself off would also be very good, and files it away in his mind for later. For now, though, Suga’s hands are starting to twist in the pale green blanket beneath them, his hips are lifting in erratic thrusts, and Daichi stops pumping him, just holds his hand still and lets Suga fuck into it.

“Daichi, Daichi...I want... _please_ —”

Daichi squeezes him, strokes firmly down to his base, and then tugs up sharply and watches Suga fall apart, coming with a high gasp and heavy ropes of cum that splatter over the soft line of hair trailing down from his navel, over the perfect curves of his ribs that rise and fall with his heaving breaths. Everything about him is so finely made, almost painfully beautiful. Daichi is still just kneeling over him, looking down at him in wonder, when Suga’s eyes flutter open.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” he asks, voice a little hoarse, more than a little attractive.

“What?” Daichi says. “Of course not...why?”

“I’ve admitted to you that I’m a pervy stalker. And I barely know you and I—”

“Suga, stop,” Daichi cuts him off, trying not to laugh. He gets off of Suga and kneels beside him. “You’re not a pervy stalker, and I’m here, too, aren’t I?”

Suga tugs his shorts back up, lets his shirt fall over the mess on his stomach, and sits up, leaning over to press his face into Daichi’s neck. “I’m not usually like this, I just...I felt like you were there for _me,_ the very first time I saw you. Or, I wanted you to be, I don’t know...I think I’m digging a hole here.”

“No, you’re not,” Daichi says. “This is...this is different for me, too, but it’s _good._ It’s...I don’t know, maybe we’re both crazy, but I think...I was. I am.”

Suga stops burrowing into the curve between his neck and shoulder and leans back so Daichi can see his face, still flushed. “You’re what?”

He might as well just say it this time. Suga has been plenty honest with him, after all, and he’s sitting here in the other man’s bed, the marks of his kisses all over him, traces of his release still sticky on Daichi’s hand. Maybe it's too much, but it is what it is.

“For you,” he says.

Suga bites his lip, and then he smiles, and then he falls back into Daichi's chest.

“Will you sing?” he asks, when Daichi's arms have come to wrap around him and they've both leaned back on the bed. Suga's pillows under Daichi, Daichi under Suga.

Daichi is about to tell Suga that's _his_ job, but he knows if he sings, Suga will, too. He knows both of them will sound better with the support of the other’s voice.

He sings Suga's words to his own melody, and soon enough, Suga joins him. They take turns leading and following, playing with the songs they know, and eventually sitting up so Daichi can get his guitar from where he leaned it against Suga’s desk when they came in, and crafting something new together.

He's never written with someone else like this. He's never really formally written at all, he's just played until it sounded right, until it stayed in his head and his fingers knew where to fall when he wanted to hear it again. He's afraid to forget this one though, with Suga leaving the city tomorrow, and two weeks between now and the time they can sing together again.

"Should we write this down?" he asks.

"I have staff paper in my desk," Suga says, but his legs are stretched out over Daichi's, his fingers brushing up and down Daichi's arm, and he makes no move to get up and fetch it. There's no way Daichi is going to make him move.

He uses his phone instead, recording them as they play it one last time. Suga humming the lines they haven't written yet, falling silent at the end to let the soft twang of the guitar bring the song to its close.

" _Accountant,"_ Suga snorts.

Daichi laughs and stops recording. He kisses Suga soundly, memorizing the warm brush of breath over his skin, the feel of smooth fingertips pressed to his cheeks.

Tomorrow they'll receive their diplomas, they'll be surrounded by visiting family and they’ll go with them to different places.

Tonight he can cover Suga’s lips with his own, drink him in until he’s dizzy. He can walk back to his room with the memory of a new song pressed into the pads of his fingers, and with the taste of cherry on his tongue.

*

The next day is filled with such a flurry of activity that Daichi doesn’t have as much of a chance as he’d like to dwell on thoughts of the night before. His parents arrive early in the morning, his mother smoothing his hair, his father clapping him on the back. So proud, so satisfied with the direction they think his life is headed. Normally this would make a flutter of panic rise up in Daichi’s stomach, that feeling of losing his footing with the current of his parents’ wishes sweeping him along.

Today, he is calm. He tells his father he has applied to all the places he suggested, has interviews set up for the following week. He’s not lying. He has done this, will do this, but it won’t be all he does. It won’t be what he does forever. He eyes his guitar in the corner of his room while his mother adjusts the black gown on his shoulders and beams at him. He smiles back and knows there is more than what she sees when she paints his future in her mind.

The ceremony is long and dry. So many names called out, so many students slowly making their way across the stage. Suga is nowhere to be seen—the ceremony for his department isn’t even at the same time of day as Daichi’s. He texts him though, late in the afternoon.

 **Suga  
** _my parents want to catch the next train...leaving earlier than I thought_

 **Suga  
** _where are you? can we say goodbye?_

 **Daichi  
** _Just touring the campus with my folks...i’ll come find you_

Suga texts his location to Daichi, and Daichi’s parents insist on coming along with him when he tries to excuse himself to meet a friend quickly.

 **Daichi  
** _won’t be alone_

 **Suga  
** _That is most unfortunate_

It is. Suga has managed to distract his parents, they’re happily chatting with one of his professors, but with Daichi’s parents standing right there he can’t give Suga the kind of goodbye he was imagining.

He introduces him to his parents and Suga is friendly and charming, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed from the afternoon sun. He’s so _pretty._ How can he be so pretty? Daichi can’t possibly just wish him a nice break and walk away from him without touching him.

“Oh, Daichi, I almost forgot,” Suga says. “There’s someone I wanted you to meet before we take off, I just saw him by the bookstore.” He lifts his chin to gesture in the direction of the large building that houses the university’s bookstore. “He works in accounting, so I thought…”

“Excellent. Off you go, then, Daichi,” his father says. “Can’t have too many connections, not when you’re just starting out.”

“Right, sure,” Daichi says. “Do you mind staying here so I don’t have to bring my bags?”

His parents agree, and Suga smiles so brightly at him that Daichi knows long before they’ve made it around the corner of the building that there is no one for him to meet, no one except Suga.

Suga’s hands are already on his neck, tugging him into a kiss, holding him there with palms warm against his jaw.

“I’m gonna have to...make up a name now, when I go back,” Daichi says. As if he cares. As if he wouldn’t make up entire convoluted accounting related scenarios for his parents after, as long as it means he gets to pull Suga tight against him now.

“Tell them he was gone, and I promised I’ll have him call you.”

“That doesn’t give us much time,” Daichi says.

Suga shakes his head and silences him with another kiss. “Let me pretend we have forever,” he says when he draws back.

Daichi wishes that were true. He runs his tongue over Suga’s lips, dips it between them once more, and then he just holds him, his hand threaded through Suga’s hair. Like if he locks his arms around him, gets him close enough, he can erase the need to go back to his parents, for Suga to go home with his.

“I’ll call you tonight,” Suga promises, his lips moving against Daichi’s neck.

“Okay,” Daichi says, trying to ignore the deep ache in his chest when Suga finally steps back and slips out of his arms. It nags at him, urging him to pull Suga in again, to never let him go. He tightens his hands into fists at his sides, and wills himself to not do anything embarrassing.

Suga is smiling, he looks relaxed and assured.

“See you soon, Sawamura Daichi,” he says, leaning in to kiss Daichi once more, right on the tip of his nose.

Daichi lifts a hand and brushes it over Suga’s soft cheek. He’s already imprinted his face in his memory, so now he just looks at him because he can, soaking in the moment.

“See you soon,” he says.

Suga leaves him there, heading back to where his parents are waiting for the long train ride home. Daichi goes back to his parents, makes his excuses, and eventually they, too, make their way to the train station for a much shorter ride to his parents’ condo.

He tries not to wait for Suga’s call, when he knows there are still hours left until he arrives home. He lets himself start to anticipate it when the night grows dark and Suga should be calling within an hour.

Two hours later Daichi is sitting on his floor with his phone in his lap.

Three hours later he is pacing his room. Suga hasn’t responded to his texts. He hasn’t called. He should be home. Daichi should be in his bed right now with Suga’s voice soft in his ear, maybe singing him to sleep.

Daichi checks the time again and calls Suga’s number, ready to apologize for being impatient, for being worried, but Suga doesn’t answer.

He never does.

When Daichi tries again in the morning, after a few fitful hours of sleep, an automated voice tells him there’s no room for him to leave a voice message and then the call disconnects.

Daichi is stunned, doesn’t know what to think. Is Suga hurt? Did he just come home exhausted and fall asleep before he could call? Is he still sleeping now?

Or...is he choosing not to answer his phone? Did he ever plan to answer it, to call Daichi? Did he ever plan for anything to happen beyond their one week of making music and leaving each other breathless?

And, if that’s the case, then _why?_ Did Daichi do something wrong? Say too much? It doesn’t make sense. Daichi felt so _sure,_ so bizarrely _certain_ that it wasn’t just him, that everything about Suga was as genuine as it seemed, but now...

He doesn't know what to do. They have no mutual friends, no one he can call. His head starts to spin with all of the questions, so much that he’s afraid he really might be sick. He sits with his head in his hands and bites his lip so he won’t cry.

It’s not until later that day, after hours spent with his stomach twisted in anxious knots, that he gets on his computer and starts searching. He looks at news sites for accidents, he looks for Suga’s name. He checks the university webpage. There’s nothing. No mention of him, nothing to suggest something happened.

He’s almost afraid that he imagined every bit of it, every brush of shining hair between his fingers, ever sugar tinged kiss. But the shadows of those kisses are still all over his skin. Purple and blue blossoms that he can see and touch.

He calls Suga again, and again, and again.

By the time the day has fallen into another night, Daichi barely feels panicked or confused or foolish anymore, he just feels numb.

*

Daichi spends a week at home, using the time to go to his job interviews, to slowly start moving his things into the small apartment he’ll soon be living in, two floors up from his cousin who has just finished helping him move his mattress into the bedroom. Once it’s in, they’re left with barely enough room to stand.

“Pretty sure this is actually bigger than mine,” Yuki says when they’ve walked out into the tiny galley kitchen. “When I stand here in my place...” he presses his back against the refrigerator, “I can reach the counter without even bending over.” He stretches his arms out, and he can almost touch the counter opposite him. Daichi suspects their kitchens are exactly the same.

He looks around, taking in the living room that looks overstuffed with one beat-up couch and an old steamer trunk with Yuki’s laptop folded on top of it.

“Hey...you use Facebook?” Daichi asks.

“Yep, why? You finally gonna get your ass on there so I can friend you?”

“You don’t need to friend me. You’re family.”

“That’s not the....yes, Daichi, I use Facebook. Why?”

When Daichi has searched for Suga online he hasn’t been able to look for him there, because he doesn’t have his own account. But if he could just piggyback on someone else’s…

“I just wanted to see if I could find someone from school there. I have...I have something of his, but I lost his number.”

“Knock yourself out,” Yuki says. “I’m gonna run down and get us something to drink.”

“Thanks,” Daichi says. He waits until he’s alone to sit down in front of the laptop and open it up. Yuki is logged in already, so all he has to do is type Suga’s name into the search box. He knows this probably qualifies as vaguely stalkerish, though he supposes Suga would be one to talk if he had a problem with it. He just...he needs to know Suga is okay. If anything happened to him...

He takes a deep breath and brings his fingers to the keyboard. _Sugawara Koushi._

There, there he is. The third one down, his face is right there in the profile picture. Daichi’s heart is racing when he clicks on it, bringing up Suga’s page. It’s set to private, so there’s not much for Daichi to see, other than notifications of each time Suga has changed his profile picture. But this is enough.

Every other picture has been a photograph of somewhere outdoors. Trees with their leaves backlit by the sun, a soft landscape reflected on calm water. But the latest one, the one of Suga’s face, warm brown eyes and that smile that suggests Suga has more going on in his head than anyone could guess, was updated just three days ago. After they graduated. After Suga promised to call Daichi and never did.

So.

So Suga is okay. Friends have commented on the photo and Suga has replied to them.

Daichi closes the tab and folds the laptop screen down again.

He brushes his hand over the fading marks scattered across his chest, and then he tries not to think about Suga at all.

*

The next week is spent settling into his new job. In an office, in a cubicle, just like he always knew it would be.

He calls Suga when he gets home from his first day, even though he knows he won’t answer. He lies awake that night, his guitar under his bed, and allows himself to think about the man who came and went from his life so quickly he’s still reeling from it. He thinks about how full he felt around him, how alive, how much _more._

He still doesn’t understand.

When he walks home from his second day of work he passes a tiny cafe, set back from a spacious patio filled with weather worn tables, colored in varying shades of bright, sun-cracked paint. A large chalkboard is propped up at the entrance, announcing an open-mic night that coming weekend. _Have a voice? A guitar? A didgeridoo? Come take the stage, we want to hear you!_

Daichi smiles, pausing for a moment, then continuing on his way.

He calls Suga again that night, he’s not really sure why.

On Thursday night, having passed the cafe every morning and evening throughout the week, Daichi comes to a full stop in front of it, reading the words on the sign even though he already knows what they say.

He promised he would keep doing this. That _they_ would keep doing this, but there is no they now.

He’s not sure. He doesn’t know that there would be any point, with his voice alone, without Suga making him into something more. But he knows that every day this week he has sat at his desk and moved numbers around until the time on the clock finally told him he could stop. He’s felt his joints stiffen, his shoulders get tight, his calloused fingers pressing at the computer keyboard and wanting to find more—the bite of steel, the smooth glide of wood polished to a satin sheen from use.

On Friday, Daichi steps through the gate on his way home and goes inside, past the cheerful tables and into the cafe, where he signs up to play the next night. The friendly woman he speaks with tells him he’ll probably be up right before sunset. Daichi almost laughs. By the time he's reached his building he's almost crying.

When he gets inside he listens to the recording they made that night in Suga’s bed. He doesn’t know what all the rest of it meant, how differently Suga must have seen it than he did, but at least he knows he didn’t imagine this part—they sounded so good together. They _made_ something so good.

Suga should have been back in town today. Daichi doesn’t know if he’s here, if he ever intended to come back. He doesn’t really know anything at all, and he doesn’t have the words to fill in the holes Suga left in their song, but he thinks he’ll play this one anyway. He might as well let himself feel as close to Suga as he can, before he lets all the hopes and plans that he allowed to build up inside him sink back down with the sun.

*

Daichi passes most of Saturday with some friends from college. He doesn’t want to sit around in his apartment, wondering what Suga is doing, what he’s thinking, if he’s thinking about Daichi at all. He catches the tart scent of cherries when they’re working their way through a farmer’s market set up in the street on their way to lunch, and he almost trips, his head suddenly filled with memories of a slim, soft body in his arms, the heat of a mouth that seemed made to fit against his.

He’s entirely unsuccessful in his attempts to leave Suga behind. He carries him with him on his skin, on his tongue, in every piece of music Suga sang along to.

Maybe that’s not so bad, though, he decides, when he’s closing his guitar inside its case that evening, getting ready to walk to the cafe. Even with how hurt and confused he still feels, he knows that he would never go back and do things differently, would never choose to have not met Suga. He may not have gotten to keep him, but he gets to keep the change he made in Daichi, the inspiration he set growing, the sense of expectation for something more out of his own life.

He would never be doing this right now if he hadn’t met him, wouldn’t be going out to a place where he knows an audience waits. Wouldn’t be planning to sing even without Suga’s voice dancing around his own.

He checks the time and decides to get going, even though it’s early still. He can listen to the other performers, get out of his own head for a little while, before he can escape it completely and drift off on the waves of sound, follow them into the night for as long as his fingers move over the strings.

Just as he’s stepping out of the door of his building into the warm evening, his phone rings in his pocket. He keeps going, letting the tinny music continue as he walks down the long staircase to the street. It’s probably his mother, or maybe a friend wanting to go somewhere tonight, when Daichi already has somewhere to be. The ringing has just stopped by the time he reaches the sidewalk, and then immediately starts up again.

Daichi reaches into his pocket and checks the screen, and it’s Suga’s name blinking at him. He almost drops it, catches it just before it slips through his fingers, then accepts the call and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Suga?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I made these plans, made these plans  
> With you around dear  
> Will you be there when the day's done  
> Will you be there  
> Under the same, [under the same sun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m1-FOxiB9E8)
> 
> (This lovely Ben Howard song is wonderfully lyrically appropriate, _and_ his music in general is similar to how I hear Daichi's playing in my head.)
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you for reading and for the sweet comments on Chapter 1 (*^‿^*)
> 
> I'm sorry for throwing some sad!Daichi at you this time ***hugs him***.....last chapter will be up next weekend!
> 
> [[Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ellessey-writes)]


	3. Chapter 3

“Daichi! Oh my God, oh my God...I'm so sorry.” Suga sounds breathless and anxious, but it’s him. Warm and alive and calling him, finally.

“What…”

“Where are you?” Suga asks, his voice bouncing slightly as if he’s moving, maybe walking quickly. “I'm at the station right now, just tell me where to go.”

“What station? Are you in Tokyo?”

“Yes, yes... Please don't hate me, let me explain, okay? Where are you?”

Daichi doesn't know what he's feeling right now, certainly not hate. He can barely breathe all of a sudden. He gives Suga his address and sits down right where he is, on the steep steps leading up to his building.

“I'm not far from there, I’ll be there so soon!” Suga says and Daichi just nods, even though Suga can't see him, and holds the phone to his ear after Suga has already hung up.

He very intentionally does not think at all the entire time he waits. He just looks at the clock on his phone and counts the seconds as the minutes pass by. He doesn't even let himself wonder if this wait will be any different than the last.

He hears Suga before he sees him, his voice calling out his name, shoes slapping against the cement as he comes into view, running down the sidewalk.

He's here. He's real and he's running to Daichi, and Daichi feels something tighten so strongly in his chest that he's afraid he might collapse in on himself.

Somehow he gets to his feet right before Suga reaches him, then almost loses his footing when the smaller man slams into him with the force of a freight train, locking his arms around Daichi's neck, and Daichi is hugging him back, lifting him off his feet. He sets him back down after a moment, pushing at him gently so he’ll step back and Daichi can see his face, cup it between his hands.

“Daichi...I'm so, so sorry.”

“What happened?” Daichi asks. “You just…”

“I vanished, I know. Did you call me?”

“Of _course_ I called you.”

“Oh my God...Daichi, I lost my phone. I left it on the train on the way home and I didn’t have your number memorized. And I couldn't _find_ you! Are you not on social media anywhere?!”

Daichi is still trying to process this. That everything is okay. Everything is what he thought it was. All of this was as simple as a phone left behind on the seat of a train. “I am not on social media anywhere,” he says.

“Daichi! Who has absolutely no online presence?”

“Me?”

Suga is shaking his head. “It was the worst two weeks. They found my phone and were supposed to send it to me, but they sent it to a station in town and they misplaced it? I don’t even know, it somehow ended up being sent here again and I just got it back. I felt so horrible. I was afraid you'd think something happened to me, or that I…”

“I did,” Daichi says. “But then I saw your profile on Facebook and knew you were okay, so…”

“ _Daichi!_ Why didn't you message me?”

Daichi has to think that through. He didn't even consider doing that, not when he thought Suga was clearly capable of answering his phone, but was choosing not to.

“I thought...I was using my cousin’s account and I...Suga, I thought you didn't want to talk to me.”

Suga shakes his head again, he looks so regretful, so pained, and Daichi doesn't want him to feel this way. He takes his hands, weaving their fingers together.

“All I wanted to do was talk to you. Daichi, I changed my picture because I hoped you'd look for me. I wanted to be easy for you to find.”

“Oh,” Daichi says. He feels monumentally stupid. “I'm sorry, I just...I guess it all seemed too good to be true, and when you didn’t call I...I didn't _want_ it to end, but...”

“This hasn't ended,” Suga says. “I’m an idiot who needs his phone super-glued to his hand, but I don’t want this to have ended.” He steps back and his eyes are wide and uncertain, as if Daichi might be stupid enough to let him go, now that he has him again.

“You’re not an idiot,” Daichi says. “ _I_ am, but it doesn’t matter. You’re here...you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Suga says.

“And I _don’t_ hate you...I never hated you, I just...” Daichi doesn’t know what he is. He’s totally overcome. He wraps his arms around Suga and breathes deep, letting all the anxiety and doubt he’s felt the past two weeks slip out of him with each exhalation, filling himself with Suga’s scent each time he inhales. He kisses his shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft, white cotton, the same loose-necked shirt he’d been wearing the first night they fell into Suga’s bed. He kisses his neck, behind his ear, his hair, stopping to breathe him in again. Sunshine and clean sheets, the tempered bite of cherries mixed with something sweet. “I really missed you,” he says when Suga’s face is between his hands again, their noses side by side.

“Daichi...I was a disaster. I made myself sick worrying about what you must be thinking.”

“I tried not to think too much,” Daichi admits, then he remembers saying something like this to Suga another time. “I swear, I do think sometimes, just not when I’m playing or…”  _Or trying to keep my heart in one piece._

Suga laughs, then he sees Daichi’s guitar case sitting at the base of the stairs. “Were you about to play?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Daichi nods. “Not here though, there’s an open mic night at a cafe a few blocks over and—” Daichi breaks off, watching Suga’s face light up, a glow coming from within even as the heavy sun spills over him and makes him even brighter, his eyes filling with tears. “Are you...okay?”

Suga smiles and brushes his wrist over his eyes. “Yes. I’m extremely happy.”

“You’re...a little weird,” Daichi says.

“I know.”

“I really like you.”

Suga’s eyes fill up again and the tears slip down his cheeks this time. “Please save me from myself,” he says.

Daichi smooths his hands over Suga’s tear-kissed face as he leans in and saves them both, fitting his lips to Suga’s and almost gasping at the confirmation that it really was as good as he remembers. It’s like a jolt to his heart, like it’s been shocked into life again.

“Of _course_ I wanted to talk to you,” Suga says, after they’ve kissed long enough that probably half the people in Daichi’s building now know that he is very, very gay.

“You’re memorizing my number before I let you out of my sight again,” Daichi tells him. He’s barely kidding.

“Deal,” Suga says. “But where’s this cafe? Should we get going?”

“Oh...yeah,” Daichi checks the time. He’s not late yet, but they should definitely head in that direction. He holds his guitar case with one hand and Suga’s hand with the other, and they catch each other up on what they missed over the past two weeks on the walk to the cafe.

All of the seating is filled when they arrive. People are standing up in the empty spaces, talking quietly and sipping their drinks. A girl stands on the low wooden stage under a pergola hung with colored lights and paper lanterns—only faintly glowing now with the sun still making its way towards the horizon—singing along to the rhythm of the tambourine she pats against her hip.

Daichi finds the woman who is in charge, the one he spoke to when he signed up, standing off to the side with a clipboard, and checks in with her.

“You’ll be up next,” she tells him, then she looks between him and Suga at his side. “Are you two together?”

“Yes,” Daichi says, just as Suga says, “No,” and then they turn to look at each other.

“I mean—”

“Well yes! We are together,” Suga says quickly. “We’re...together?”

“Yes,” Daichi says again. He has no idea how Suga means this, but the answer is the same either way. “I mean…”

“Yes,” Suga nods firmly. The cafe manager is probably on the brink of giving up on them entirely. “But I’m not performing with him, which is…probably what you’re asking.”

Daichi’s face is flaming, and he is so unbearably happy. Except…“Wait, you’re not singing with me?”

“Next time,” Suga says. “I want to get to watch you tonight.”

“We have quite a few no-shows,” the woman says, tapping the list on her clipboard. “You’re welcome to do more than one song, if you want to join in later. Since you are...together.”

Suga is blushing now, too, and they both stammer some kind of acknowledgement of the women’s words as they thank her and back away.

“We’re so embarrassing,” Suga says when they’ve found a place to stand, off to the side of the fenced in patio.

“That poor lady,” Daichi agrees. “And Suga...I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. We don’t have to make any commitments right now, or—”

“You don’t want to date me?” Suga asks, arching an eyebrow.

“I _do,”_ Daichi says. “I just—”

“Good,” Suga says. “I want to date you, too. I want to do a lot of things with you, actually, but I'm not at all opposed to adding going out for dinner to that list.”

Daichi smiles. “Another list? What’s on this one?”

“Shh, Daichi,” Suga says, holding a finger up to his lips. “It’s rude to talk through someone’s performance.”

Almost everyone here is engaged in quiet conversation, the girl’s singing is simply background music for all but a few who are focused on the stage.

Daichi feels a little thrill in his stomach in response to Suga’s teasing, and to the idea of what this list could look like, if he could pull it from Suga’s thoughts and see it on paper. He wants to take Suga’s hand now and bring that finger to his lips, wants to slip it in his mouth and give Suga an idea of all the things he has on his mind.

“Fine,” he whispers, pressing close behind the other man so his lips brush his ear. “I have my own list.”

Suga turns his head so he can look over his shoulder at Daichi. “Maybe we should compare notes then, after this.”

“We’ll see,” Daichi says.

Suga doesn’t answer, but he gets the last word anyway, pressing himself back into Daichi and shifting against his hips.

Daichi knows he’ll very shortly be sporting a hard-on he can’t hide if they stay like this, but fortunately (and unfortunately, he can’t decide) a moment later the tambourine girl is walking off the stage to a polite smattering of applause, and it’s his turn.

A bright blue chair from the patio has been set on the stage, and Daichi sits down after he’s taken his guitar out and left the case off to the side. Most people keep talking as he gets comfortable and plays a soft string of notes, but those closest to the stage look up at him expectantly.

His eyes find Suga and he is smiling, mouthing something to him.  _Your name._

“Um, I’m Sawamura Daichi,” he says. “And this is…” He pauses. He was about to introduce the song he wrote with Suga, but he realizes now that that’s not the one he wants to play. He doesn’t have to play that one alone. “This is a song about beginnings,” he says instead.

It’s a bit of a contradiction, perhaps, because this song took shape over the course of the last week, when he thought whatever he had with Suga had ended. But it grew from his certainty that, even though he couldn't go back to when he had Suga with him, he also couldn’t go back to the helplessness he felt about his future. It came together from his understanding that he can only go forward with eyes open wide, chasing the light that fills them as far as it will lead.

He plays the way he always does, focused on the pull of music, the sun slipping away at his back, and now on the hum of his own voice in his chest, the words on his tongue that came so easily to him this time, fitting themselves to the music as he wrote it. His attention is on his hands as he nears the end of the song, keeping an eye on the complicated finger picking that he hasn't played enough times yet to trust that his body will carry him through it without thought.  

When he lifts his head, the sound of applause already rising up around him, it's Suga he looks to first. His face is lit by the lanterns, soft and warm, and he's smiling at Daichi, pausing in his enthusiastic clapping to wipe his eyes again. Someone calls out for him to play another song and Daichi looks around, taking in the faces all turned towards him, half empty glasses left on tables. The cafe’s manager is to the right of the stage and she nods to him, smiling.

Daichi looks to Suga and tips his chin up, gesturing towards the stage. Yes, he _can_ do this alone, and he will if he has to. He won’t relegate this to just something that he does to pass the time before the life his parents built up for him begins. It seems almost unbelievable now, that he could have spent so many years with the knowledge that he never felt better than when he was playing this guitar, and didn’t allow himself to think that that mattered. It _does_ matter. Doing something that makes him feel alive matters. Seeing the emotions that are tugged at in himself, reflecting back at him in the eyes of the people leaning forward in their seats now, matters.

But Suga...Suga with his chocolate eyes and his familiar voice, his way of fitting right into Daichi’s songs, his arms, his life, like he was meant to be there...he matters, too.

He steps onto the stage and one of the servers is already sliding another chair next to Daichi’s for him, sunflower yellow. He sits down at the edge of it and meets Daichi’s eyes, and Daichi begins strumming, leading them into their song. The one they wrote when they were still slick with sweat, Suga’s cheeks still pink from Daichi’s body covering his. Their voices take turns, Suga harmonizing throughout the first verse, Daichi in the second, and the audience draws closer as they go along—filling the space before the low platform they sit on, the room that has been freed up at the back beginning to fill as people strolling down the street stop to see what’s going on.

Daichi doesn’t know quite what it is that draws them in. It’s nothing flashy, what he and Suga have to offer. But it’s warm and real, it's that rasp in Suga's voice that catches on something in Daichi and makes him lean into the silver haired man as he plays. It's something in himself, he supposes, something that brought Suga to him in the first place.

His throat feels thick by the time the song has ended, and the manager is motioning to them to continue. Not from the singing itself, but from the way it makes him feel. He lets Suga carry the next one, just joining him in the chorus, his eyes on Suga and Suga's on him.

The rest of the evening is a blur of faces and tiny hanging lights, another song played, people speaking to them all at once, the manager offering them a weekly paid gig. It's enough to make his head spin, but Suga is right there steadying him. By the time they're walking down the street together almost an hour later and Suga seems to be on the verge of hyperventilating, everything hitting him belatedly, Daichi feels even enough to take over as the calm one. Suga is just saying his name over and over again while tugging at his hand.

“You want to go run around the block and I’ll wait for you?” Daichi asks.

Suga grins, swinging their clasped hands between them. “I can think of far better ways to burn energy if you want to wear me down, Daichi.”

“I—” Daichi feels his cheeks flood with heat. Suga is teasing, but Daichi is pretty sure he means the words all the same. “I can, too,” he says.

“Well...let’s go compare our lists then,” Suga says. “Your place?”

“It’s...roughly the size of a hamster cage.”

Suga laughs. “I’m really more than okay with being in a confined space with you. And I have three roommates, so...”

So that settles it, they head back towards Daichi’s building. They’re about to cross over to his street when Suga pauses and nods towards the little convenience shop they’ve just passed. “Should we grab anything? Do you have...stuff?”

Daichi thinks about that for a moment, wanting very much to know exactly what stuff, but not wanting to ask. Is it presumptuous to think he’s asking about condoms? That condoms will be necessary tonight? Daichi hasn’t bought them in almost a year, and more often than not he doesn’t bother with lube when he jerks off, so wherever his neglected bottle ended up when he moved out of the dorm, he’s really not sure.

“Daichi? If there’s no stuff required to make your list happen, then I can tell you we have very different plans.”

“No! My list is...we should...yes, we should get some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Suga asks, smiling.

“I’m ignoring you,” Daichi says, shaking his head and trying to suppress his smile as he walks past Suga and back towards the shop’s entrance.

“Are you talking about condoms, Daichi?” Suga asks loudly, making a few passersby turn their heads.

“Maybe some duct tape,” Daichi mutters.

“Hm...kinky,” Suga says lightly as he breezes past Daichi and into the store. Daichi follows him with a hand pressed to the back of his own burning neck.

Suga has mercy on him while they’re inside, quickly finding what they need, as well as some cold drinks from the cooler, and then standing quietly beside Daichi at the checkout counter. As if it matters that he is no longer shouting about condoms. It couldn’t be more obvious what they’re about to do, with their box of protection and industrial sized bottle of lubricant.

“It was all they had!” Suga says when they’ve walked back outside and Daichi holds the heavy bag up with raised eyebrows.

“Bullshit,” he says. “I’m 99% sure you chose this one just to embrasses me without having to say a word.”

“That’s a high level of certainty given how vocally I embarrassed you on the way in there,” Suga points out.

“That’s true,” Daichi says. “You basically can’t be trusted at all.”

“Do you still want to take me back to your hamster cage?”

“Oddly, yes,” Daichi says, wrapping an arm around Suga and keeping it there for the rest of the walk to his building.

When they get inside Daichi heads for the staircase.

“Elevator broken?” Suga asks.

“No,” Daichi says. “I just like taking the stairs.”

“And you're on which level?” Suga asks.

“Seventh.”

“Hmm.”

“Would you like to take the elevator, Suga?”

Suga smiles and Daich takes that as a yes, and there’s something to be said for the elevator ride, because as soon as the doors slide together Suga wraps an arm around Daichi's neck and kisses him. He presses right up against Daichi's chest and they melt into each other, tasting each others lips again. Their tongues coming together in wet, glancing touches, and Suga shivering when Daichi rakes his fingers slowly down his back and pulls him in closer by his hips.

They break apart when the elevator opens, but Suga slips his fingers up the back of Daichi’s shirt and dances them over his spine while he’s fumbling with his keys.

“You want me to get it in or not?” Daichi asks, just before the key finally fits into place.

“Are you really asking me that?” Suga’s breath is warm on the back of Daichi’s neck, and he just stays there for a moment even though he could turn the doorknob now. Playing his words back in his head, and now hearing them the way Suga did. When Suga speaks again it’s a whisper right next to Daichi’s ear, soft lips brushing against him. “I’m pretty sure you know the answer.”

A little sound comes up from Daichi’s chest, scrapes its way through his throat and catches in his mouth. He wonders if Suga has any idea just what it does to him, to have the image of himself inside Suga in his head. He wonders if the way it makes his heart race and his skin tingle, even just the brush of clothing against his skin making him shiver, is the same way Suga feels when he thinks about Daichi spreading him open and burying himself inside him.

He pushes the door open and Suga follows him in, stopping short after taking two steps past the entrance.

“Oh...my God,” he says. Daichi turns to him, and he is looking around the apartment with wide eyes and the beginnings of a delighted smile.

“What?” Daichi asks.

Suga looks at him, his smile growing. “Daichi!”

“Suga?”

“How do you even _fit?”_ he asks, holding his arms out. (One bumps into the wall, the other into Daichi.)

Daichi looks over the apartment. The kitchen is a couple steps to their left, they’re in the living room already, and they can see right into his bedroom. “It's not _that_ small,” he says. Even though it is.

Suga’s face is still glowing. “It's _so small,”_ he says, slipping out of his shoes and stepping farther inside. “It's perfect. Let's spend all of our time here from now on. You'll have no choice but to be on top of me.”

“Like I'd be fighting you on that,” Daichi says. He kicks off his own shoes before taking the other bag from Suga and walking around the couch to set them both on the steamer trunk.

“Well, Daichi...” Suga follows him, stepping over the guitar case he’s leaned against the couch. “You might want me on top.”

He pushes Daichi’s chest hard and it’s not quite enough to make him move, but Daichi sits down anyway and Suga climbs on top of him, kneeling with his legs spread around Daichi’s hips.

“Now what?” Daichi asks, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch and looking up at Suga with one eyebrow raised.

Suga purses his lips like he needs to consider this.

“Now...you’re going to sing to me,” he says.

“Am I? I thought we were going to compare lists.”

“This is on mine,” Suga says, leaning over to grab Daichi’s guitar and drag it up on the couch beside them.

“Oh, I’m playing, too?” Daichi asks, already reaching to unclasp the case and open it up.

“Mhm.”

“I can’t hold my guitar and you,” Daichi points out. He would much rather be holding Suga right now, but the look Suga has in his eyes, something a little shadowed, definitely a little sultry, won’t allow him to say no to anything he asks. Suga keeps his eyes on Daichi’s as he slides off his lap and sits on the trunk right in front of him. “Which song?” Daichi asks.

“My favorite,” Suga says.

Daichi retunes his guitar and then begins to play, and he already thinks this is something that belongs on his list, too, watching Suga watch him. He keeps his eyes on Suga’s face, but Suga’s are moving all over him now. His gaze falls warm on Daichi’s shoulders, the muscles tensing in his arms as he plays, on his hands, over his legs, spread wide with the guitar in his lap, and then back up again. He watches Daichi’s hands again when he reaches the chorus, and Daichi watches Suga bite his lip, watches his slender fingers curl in the loose fabric of his t-shirt and begin to lift it.

It’s only because he's so familiar with this song that Daichi is able to keep playing with only a tiny hiccup in the music. He keeps going and so does Suga, pulling his shirt up until his lean stomach and chest are exposed, scattered with beauty marks that Daichi wants to count, wants to cover with his lips, and then slipping it off completely and letting it fall to the floor.

“Sing,” Suga says, because while Daichi has kept the music going, his mouth has gone dry. Lips parted with no words coming out. He swallows and starts to sing the next verse, and Suga’s eyes continue to move over him. His hands are resting on his own thighs, but as he focuses on Daichi’s hands again, they move to the waistband of his shorts, deftly slipping the button out and working the zipper open.

Daichi has no idea how he doesn’t lose his place completely when Suga stands up and starts to tug down his skinny little shorts. Once they're down to his knees they drop easily and Suga steps out of them, so he's standing before Daichi in his boxers. Pink boxers. Pink boxers sitting low on Suga's hips, above long legs with softly curved thighs and calves, and ankles that were made to be touched and traced by a lover’s tongue. By _his_ tongue.

“Suga,” Daichi says, instead of whatever words were supposed to come next.

Suga sits back down and runs his hand over the front of his underwear, where Daichi can see the outline of his cock. “If you keep going, I will too,” he says.

Daichi doesn't think he's breathing anymore. He can't sing. But his fingers move on their own, and Suga's move too, curving around himself and then dragging slowly up and down his length through his boxers. Daichi loses track of where he is in the song and just starts from the beginning, his gaze darting between Suga's face where his eyes are starting to look dark and hazy, and his hand moving over himself, moisture seeping into the fabric at the tip of his cock and turning it dark pink.

“This is what you’d do...after you watched me playing?” Daichi asks.

Suga nods and color rises up in his cheeks, like he's still embarrassed by this admission, even though he's sitting here getting himself off in front of Daichi right now. “I thought you should get to watch me, too. And...I wanted to get to do it _while_ I watched you, not after.”

“What else do you want?” Daichi asks, but Suga just shakes his head.

“Not yet,” he says.

“But—” Daichi was about to say that he wants to hear more, wants to _do_ more, but just then Suga braces himself with a hand on the trunk and lifts his hips, using his other hand to pull his boxers down and add them to the pile of clothing on the floor.

Now Daichi is fully dressed and Suga is fully naked. He reaches behind himself to pull out the oversized pump-style lube, and then slicks himself up with it while Daichi feels his own cock swell uncomfortably against the seam of his jeans.

It's torture, sitting here with Suga so close to him, his cock flushed and wet in his hand. He wants to touch him, wants to move between his legs and spread them open, his fingers pressing into supple thighs and tongue laving over the slick head of his cock. But Suga shakes his head when Daichi's fingers still on his guitar, and he waits for him to start playing again before stroking himself slowly from tip to base.

“Oh my God,” Daichi says. “Suga, please…I want to touch you.”

Suga just leans his head back and continues to pump himself, still watching Daichi through half-lidded eyes.

A whine bubbles up in Daichi's throat. He doesn't even know what he wants now. He wants his hands on Suga, but he also knows the other man isn't going to disappear after this, he has the rest of the night to touch him everywhere, and right now…right now Suga's breathing is picking up, the pace of his hand is, too. He wants to help Suga, but he also wants to stay right where he is and watch him pleasure himself. He’s never experienced this before, the heady arousal of seeing someone get off on looking at _him._    

It’s so hard to keep playing though, his mind keeps blanking, his fingers keep stopping. Suga stops stroking himself when Daichi’s left hand is just gripping the neck of his guitar, not even trying to find the next chord.

“You’re not holding up your end of the deal,” he says.

“Suga…”

Suga smiles and leans forward, taking the guitar from Daichi’s hands and settling it gently back in the case, and then kneeling down between his legs and undoing his belt. Soon his pants have been undone, too, and he lifts himself off the couch so Suga can pull them down, along with his underwear.

“What’s on _your_ list?” he asks, still kneeling in front of Daichi, leaning in and breathing over his cock, already so hard from watching Suga touch himself. “Is this on it?”

“Is it...on yours?” Daichi asks. He’s directing almost all of his focus towards not moving right now, not letting his hips buck up with Suga’s mouth just inches from his cock.

Suga nods. “We get bonus points if it’s on both.”

“Let’s rack them up then,” Daichi says, and Suga smiles and covers the last bit of distance between them. He takes Daichi's cock in his hand just as his lips meet his skin, warm and soon slick, as he glides them over the wet tip. His other hand is pressed to the inside of Daichi’s left thigh, sliding up it slowly, and then he’s stopping before he’s even really started and leaning back to look up at Daichi.

“Is this what going up and down seven flights of stairs every day gets you?” he asks, releasing Daichi’s cock to run his hands over both of Daichi’s legs. It feels good, and he loves seeing Suga’s hands moving over his skin, but he doesn't understand why what was about to happen has been put on hold.

“Huh?” he says.

“Your legs, Daichi,” Suga says. “How do you get legs like this?”

“Oh...the—the gym? I guess? I’ve only been doing these stairs for a week, so...”

“Hmm.” Suga rhythmically presses his thumbs into Daichi’s muscles, moving from just above his knees to the tops of his thighs. “Maybe I should come to the gym with you.”

“To work out, or…?”

“To watch you, obviously,” Suga says, and then he slides his hands under Daichi’s legs and tugs him forward with surprising strength, just as he leans back in and wraps his lips around his cock.

Daichi inhales sharply and spreads his arms over the back of the couch again, gripping tight with both hands and focusing all his strength there, so that he doesn’t grab Suga’s head and force him down on his cock, or try to meet the same end by thrusting his hips up.

Suga’s mouth is so hot. It’s been so long since he’s had anything but his own hand wrapped around his dick, and now Suga is between his legs, covering him with wet heat, reminding him of how good it feels. How amazing it will be when he’s inside Suga, and Daichi is _not_ going to last.

“ _Shit..._ Suga, maybe we—”

Suga chooses this moment to stop swirling his tongue in circles around Daichi’s cockhead and start sucking instead, and Daichi’s mind instantly goes blank. There’s just a fleeting thought of _fuck it,_ as his head falls back and his eyes squeeze shut, and he stops worrying about how long this will last and just _feels_ it. The way his cock swells in Suga’s mouth, the way Suga’s fingers dig into his thighs as he sinks lower, and _God_...Daichi might be ruined for singing with Suga now. He’ll just be aroused constantly, every time he hears that voice, because Suga is humming now, bringing Daichi to the back of his throat so the vibrations work against the tip of his cock and set his toes curling and his stomach twisting with heat.

He makes himself lift his head so he can watch, hands still clenched on the back of the couch and knuckles getting whiter still as Suga bobs his head over his cock, lips stretched wide and eyes on him. He’s so focused on Suga’s mouth, on every pull of blood through his body when Suga sucks him, that he almost doesn’t notice him slipping one hand out from under Daichi’s leg and reaching behind himself.

“No,” Daichi says, when his muddled thoughts come together enough to understand what Suga’s about to do. Suga comes off of him and looks up with lips swollen and red from sliding up and down Daichi’s length. “Get up here,” Daichi says. “Let me.”

Suga nods and turns to pick up the lube, pumping it over Daichi’s hand when he holds it out to Suga.

“We’re flying through my list,” he says.

“If this is on your list, why would you try to do it yourself?” Daichi asks, using his dry hand to steady Suga as he climbs back on his lap, knees spread over him.

Suga shrugs and reaches between them to pull Daichi’s shirt off, lifting it up and over his head when Daichi raises his arms. “I don’t want to be greedy.”

Daichi breathes out a little laugh, looking at the stunning man in his lap, cock upright and pink against a pale stomach, pupils blown and lips still wet with precum. “You don’t think I want all this, too?” he says. “We don’t need to compare lists, whatever is on yours is on mine. If you want it, I want it.”

Suga’s cheeks color as he braces himself with his hands on the back of the couch, on either side of Daichi’s head, and raises himself on his knees so Daichi can easily reach around him and cup his ass with both hands.

“I think,” Suga says, breath hitching when Daichi uses one hand to spread Suga open a little, and lets the slick fingers of the other hand brush over his entrance, “you already know I have a bit of an obsession with your hands.”

“Cherry cola, being smothered, and hands,” Daichi says, and Suga starts to laugh and then gasps instead when Daichi circles his rim with the tip of his index finger.

“Not just _hands,_ Daichi.  _Y_ _our_ hands.”

“Right,” Daichi says, and then he presses his fingertip to Suga’s hole and feels it flutter against him, ready to open to his touch. “While I sat there obliviously strumming my guitar, you were thinking about my hands...doing this?” He slides his finger in, stopping at the second knuckle to watch Suga’s face and make sure he’s adjusting okay, and then pressing it the rest of the way until it’s as deep as he can reach.

Suga closes his eyes and lets out a shaking sigh, his lips curving up like this is exactly what he’s wanted, so happy just to have Daichi’s finger inside him, and Daichi tries to think if he’s ever felt anything like this before. If all the little steps leading up to sex have ever felt so intimate, so fulfilling.

He pulls his finger out and slides it around Suga’s rim before pushing it back in, and then does that again and again, teasing his rim a little longer each time, so the other man is lifting his ass trying to get Daichi back inside him, and then pushing back against his hand with a little moan when Daichi finally fingers him again.

“More,” Suga says, so this time Daichi teases him with two fingers before pressing them in and making them both gasp a little. Suga from the stretch, and Daichi from how tight and hot it feels, from how he knows it’s going to feel around his cock.

He stops teasing and just starts thrusting his fingers in and out, pausing only to scissor them and stretch Suga a little more, and Suga’s head tips forward, light hair falling over his eyes, lean muscles flexing in his arms as his grip tightens on the couch.

“Mm...this is—” Daichi twists his wrist and drags his fingers inside of Suga, knowing he’s found what he’s looking for when Suga’s words cut off and his eyebrows draw together. “ _Ah..._ oh, Daichi.”

“Like that?” Daichi asks.

Suga hums again and nods his head, eyes closed now. “Another,” he says.

Daichi moves his free hand between them to brush it over Suga’s cock as he adds a third finger. He’s afraid it will be too much, but Suga just groans and sinks onto his hand, bearing down when he’s taken his fingers all the way in, like he wants them deeper still, and Daichi can’t stop himself from moaning, too. Suga opens his eyes when he hears him. They’re so hazy and heated, so _knowing,_ that just looking at Suga makes the coil of pleasure in his gut burn hotter.

“You want me to fuck your fingers?” Suga asks.

Daichi hadn’t quite formulated the thought in his mind yet, but that desire is exactly what set off the throbbing in his cock and the electricity crackling under his skin.

“Yeah,” he says, and then he forgets to close his mouth, and probably forgets to breath and blink as well, as Suga lifts himself until just the tips of Daichi’s fingers are inside him, his rim clenching around them, and then forces himself down hard. Daichi curses under his breath and then realizes that he’s nodding, but Suga’s eyes are closed again and he can’t see him. “Yeah,” he repeats. “Keep going.”

Suga does, sliding up and down Daichi’s fingers, a little faster and a little harder the longer he fucks himself, mewling each time they hit deep inside him.

“Give me more,” he says, opening his eyes just enough for Daichi to see the edges of warm brown around huge black pupils.

Daichi shakes his head. It’s already so tight with three, he’s not comfortable forcing another in. “I can’t,” he says. “I’ve already—”

“Here,” Suga says, and Daichi is about to say he doesn’t understand, but then Suga is opening his mouth wide and Daichi is no longer confused, he’s just achingly hard and flooded with more arousal than he’s ever felt.

He lifts the hand that had fallen still around Suga’s cock and brings it to his mouth instead, pressing two fingers to the other man’s tongue. Precum runs heavily down his own length when Suga closes his mouth around his fingers and moans, hot tongue pressing up and slipping between them.

“Fuck, Suga...”

Suga’s eyes flutter closed and he sucks Daichi’s fingers, pulling them to the back of his mouth before releasing the suction and letting them slide over his tongue again. Daichi just watches him do this a few more times, before realizing his fingers are buried inside Suga still, but neither of them are moving. He starts to thrust in and out of Suga’s ass again, and Suga makes a little whimpering sound and opens his mouth, inviting Daichi to do the same with the fingers on his tongue.

Daichi is afraid that some part of him is going to break. His heart is beating frantically, his skin is on fire, and his cock is becoming so painful he knows he has to do something about it soon. He fingers Suga as long as he can, fucking into his mouth with his other hand and letting the obscenely wet sounds he’s making on both ends wash over him, building the pressure low in his stomach even more until it’s almost unbearable.

It’s too much, feeling Suga clenching around him, watching his head tip back and listening to him almost choke on Daichi’s fingers every time he pushes them into his mouth, three of them now, and then moan right after—a wanton, satisfied humming in his throat—like he _loves_ this, and Daichi is going to explode because nothing has ever been this good.

He had no _idea_ he could want someone this much, so much it’s like every sunset he’s ever watched setting the sky on fire before his eyes, is coming together into something impossibly hot and bright inside of him. The knowledge that Suga wants _him_ this much, that he feels this good because Daichi’s hands are on him, in him...Daichi has to stop, all of a sudden, slipping his fingers out of Suga and gripping him tight around the waist with both hands, because otherwise he’s going to come without Suga even touching him.  

Suga is panting and trembling, and his eyes are so wide when he opens them to stare back at him that Daichi knows whatever this is that is overwhelming him now, igniting him, is burning through Suga’s body, too.

“Take me,” Suga says, his voice lifting just slightly so it’s almost a question, and something about it, the vulnerability and openness and _hopefulness_ , makes tears prick at Daichi’s eyes. He wants to lift Suga up and pull him down over his cock right now, fuck up into him with nothing in between them and show him that he never has to ask.

It takes every bit of resolve he has to lift Suga off of his lap instead, to lay him down on his back, head pillowed by the low arm of the couch, and then fumble with the box of condoms, pulling the flap up with shaky fingers before slipping one out and tearing it open. He kneels between Suga’s legs as he rolls it over himself, and Suga pumps lube into his own palm and drags it over Daichi’s cock, humming apologetically when Daichi sucks in a sharp breath.

“I think...I said something about lasting longer when we did this,” Daichi says, adjusting himself between Suga’s legs and lining their hips up. “But...”

Suga smiles shakily and lifts his legs so his knees are raised up by his chest. “I’m giving us both permission to come in less than a minute.”

Daichi smiles back. He braces himself on the couch with one hand and holds one of Suga’s legs with the other, his hand tucked right behind his knee so the sweat damp skin of his calf and thigh squeeze tight around it. Daichi takes a deep breath, presses against the wet, open rim of Suga’s entrance, and sinks into it.

He's not sure if his eyes are open or closed, he just knows everything is black suddenly. His entire world narrows down to the nearly suffocating heat swallowing him up, pressing in all around him and drawing him in, until his hips are flush against Suga's ass and the darkness is overtaken by a flare of white light.

“ _Shit,_ Suga!” Daichi gasps. “Holy shit, you're so tight.”

Suga’s eyes are wide open and his hands have come to clasp together behind Daichi’s neck.

“Are you...are you okay?” Daichi asks, staying right where he is, pressing so deep in Suga, but afraid to move now and pull out.

Suga still hasn’t made a sound, but his eyelids slip down and his chin tilts up as he arches his back and manages to take Daichi just a little deeper. And then he hums, that low, throaty buzz that has made Daichi helpless from day one, and circles his hips.

“Mmm....I’m good,” he breathes, finally. “This is...God, Daichi. You’re perfect.”

The electricity skipping below Daichi’s skin has turned to something explosive, livewires catching fire and spreading too fast and too far to be controlled. He’s still not sure if pulling out is a good idea, he’s not sure if he can handle the hot friction that will be dragged all over his cock. He’s not sure he won’t come the second he presses back in. He can’t just stay here though, and he can’t stop himself from leaning closer to Suga and catching his lips in a hungry kiss as he rolls his hips back until he’s withdrawn completely.

“You...” he says, lips brushing Suga’s, cock pressing back in just enough to feel that incredible heat pulling him again. “Suga...you don’t know what you do to me.”

What he’s done _for_ him. All the color he’s splashed over what Daichi thought was the immutable blueprint for his life.

Suga’s lips start to move against Daichi’s, to kiss him or to speak, Daichi isn’t sure, because he’s already driving back into him and a sharp cry falls out instead.

Daichi doesn’t need him to say anything, not with words. Suga is here with him. He showed himself to Daichi when Daichi didn’t see him, found him again when Daichi lost him. He wants him, Daichi knows, and all he needs to do is show Suga that he has him.

He kisses him again, holds his lip between his own and starts to thrust rhythmically, matching his pace and force to the way Suga moves against him, the way his heels dig into his back and his fingers twist in his hair. It feels thrilling and new, and yet familiar at the same time. Like he already knows Suga’s body, and Suga knows just how to angle his hips to make them both gasp and cling to each other. Just like singing together for the first time and feeling like they’d been doing it for years, like they were already partners.

Every time he sinks all the way inside the other man, the waves of heat rolling over him get stronger, the pressure low in his gut and at the base of his cock pulsing insistently, demanding release. He starts to snap his hips harder and Suga’s little gasps and cries get higher and breathier, his own voice drags out of his throat in grunts and rough catches of breath. His skin slaps against Suga’s and Suga’s legs tighten around him, flushed thighs hot and slick with sweat against his sides. He’s starting to lose control, plunging in with no restraint, acting only on the instinct to get as deep in Suga as he can, fucking him so hard now that Suga’s body rocks under his with every thrust.

“ _Ah,_ Daichi, _yes_. _Yesyesyes,”_ Suga gasps.

Daichi moans, low and wrecked, and feels himself succumbing to the heat. Suga is everywhere, so wet and perfectly, painfully tight around his cock, arms and legs encircling him, holding their bodies together like they could never get close enough. He’s trembling uncontrollably now, pressing his face to Suga’s shoulder, knowing he’s safe to fall apart here with slender arms holding him tight.

“This is... _this_ is what you do to me,” Suga says, right before Daichi loses himself. “Oh God, Daichi...I’ve never felt so full.”

Daichi spills inside him then with a force that makes his fingers bite into the soft underside of Suga’s thigh, makes him open his mouth to cry out against Suga’s skin only to find that he can’t make a sound. He can only shudder against Suga, rocking into him over and over until the compulsion finally leaves him, and he feels like he has nothing left.

He’s lying heavy on Suga’s chest now, but he knows that the other man won’t mind. Suga’s arms and legs are still wrapped around him, holding him steady until the shaking starts to ebb away, and he becomes conscious of the fact that Suga is still hard against his stomach.

“Suga…” he loses his train of thought when he lifts himself up and looks down at Suga’s face, flushed and blissed out even though Daichi’s the one who was just hit by the most powerful climax he’s ever experienced. He smiles up at Daichi, running his hands through his hair and then bringing them to his face, fingertips skimming over his forehead, his cheekbones.

“You fill me up,” he says, and it takes Daichi a moment to put these words together with what he said right before Daichi came. “From the...moment I saw you...your voice, your face...you have such a good face, Daichi.”

Daichi feels tears in his eyes again. That brightness is still there—not scorching his skin anymore, not burning for release—but glowing inside of him, a steady warmth that makes his heart swell like it does when he sees the sun at just the right time, and feels something catch inside himself. Just the way he feels when he hears Suga’s voice.

Suga’s hands are still stroking his face, and Daichi reaches between them to slide his palm through the precum that’s pooled on Suga’s stomach and smooth it over his cock.

Suga sighs and smiles, his head tipping back again, but he keeps talking even as Daichi starts to fist his cock with smooth, deep strokes.

“I...feel like I’m bubbling over...every time I see you. Like...like there’s just so much reason to sing.”

“Suga...” Daichi leans over him and presses his lips to his chest.

“You make me excited and hopeful and...and just... _full._ Ah...Daichi, _Daichi…”_

Suga’s lifting his hips under Daichi now, meeting each thrust of his hand, and Daichi know he’s almost there. His whole body is shivering, his lip caught between his teeth.

“Me too,” Daichi says. “I feel it all the time since I met you. Like I'm overflowing.”

He’s like the sun right before it sets, when it spills heavy and gold. Because he knows there’s _more,_ because he knows he can touch it. He can chase it and hold it, let it drip from his fingers, let it skip ahead of him to line his path with bursts and flares of orange and amber and rose. There’s light _everywhere_ and he never saw it until…

“ _Suga,”_   he says, and Suga’s legs squeeze against him, his lips part, and he comes with the softest sound, just a little catch of his voice as he shoots white and hot between them. Daichi is still inside him, and Suga pulses around him like a solar flare each time his hips buck under Daichi, and another line of glistening heat falls over his skin.

Daichi strokes him through it with gentle pumps of his hand, leaning over him and murmuring against his skin. _Like this. You make me feel just like this._ Like there’s too much inside of him to ever be contained.

The roll of Suga’s hips starts to slow, and then his legs stop clenching around Daichi and splay out on either side of him instead.

“Daichi,” he sighs. His eyes are closed, his voice rough and so quiet that Daichi can just barely hear him.

“Are you alive?” he asks.

“Not sure. Am I saying words out loud right now?”

“Yes,” Daichi says, laughing softly. He pulls out of Suga, keeping a hand at the base of his cock to hold the condom in place, and then dropping it in the plastic bag that they carried their oversized lube home in. He uses his own discarded t-shirt (he likes Suga’s too much to risk anything happening to it) to wipe the mess from Suga’s stomach, before stretching back out on top of him. “We made it pretty long. More than a minute, anyway.”

“I’m impressed by us both,” Suga says, folding his arms loosely over Daichi’s back. “Though I was the clear winner. Three times running.”

Daichi smiles into Suga’s chest, brushes his lips over the beauty mark below his left nipple, and traces a path with his tongue to another one low on his ribs. “You wanna make this a competition?”

“In which you direct all of your efforts towards making me come?” Suga asks. “I can’t say I would be sorry to lose.”

Daichi laughs and then keeps kissing his way across Suga’s body, lifting his leg to press his open mouth to the inside of his thigh and taste the clean sweat there. He runs his tongue down to Suga’s knee, sucks at the soft swell of his calf, then leaves a trail of nips and kisses down to his ankle where he stays for far too long, because Suga’s ankles make something twinge in his chest and he doesn’t know why, but kissing them seems to ease it.

“You’re making me feel like dessert,” Suga says.

“That sounds about right,” Daichi says, finally releasing Suga’s foot and reaching for his hands to pull him upright. “Have you come back to life?”

Suga hums and falls into Daichi’s side, snuggling up against him as Daichi’s arm comes to pull him closer. “I’m sleepy. But I should probably...”

“You should probably put those cute pink boxers on and get some rest.”

“You like my boxers, Daichi?”

“Very much.”

“Can you use those strong muscles of yours to put them on me and carry me home?”

Daichi laughs and runs his hand up and down Suga’s leg, bent up almost to his chest as he curls into a ball under Daichi’s arm. “Stay,” he says. “Just sleep here, and maybe I can get my first win in the morning.”

“That’s...very tempting,” Suga says. “And I haven’t memorized your number yet, so technically...”

“You’re not allowed to leave anyway,” Daichi finishes for him.

Suga nods against his chest and makes absolutely no move to reach for his boxers.

Daichi ends up slipping Suga’s feet through them and tugging them up his legs, at which point Suga stirs and helps get them the rest of the way up. He perks up further when Daichi goes to put their drinks in the fridge and Suga remembers that they bought them in the first place.

They wind up in Daichi’s bed with their drinks in hand, Suga in his pink boxers and one of Daichi’s t-shirts, Daichi in underwear alone because Suga refuses to let him wear a shirt. They talk late into the night, Suga running soft fingertips over the last faint traces of the marks he left two weeks before, tipping his face up to Daichi’s every so often. Daichi leans in every time to accept the press of cool, cherry sweet lips against his own.

Eventually his eyes get heavy, and he has the strange sensation of feeling like he's falling asleep and waking up all at once. Because Suga is beside him, their hands clasped together on Daichi's chest, and there is so much ahead of them, so much to look forward to. So many lists to make and songs to write and sunsets to paint them both in pink and gold.

And right now Suga is singing softly, the deep blue of night outside the window is being touched by the muted light of earliest morning, and Daichi finds his voice rising up, too. Singing the sun into the sky instead of out of it for the first time.

This night is coming to an end, but everything, _everything,_ is just beginning.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of you, it's never the same  
> Because of you the darkness fades  
> Desire, desire, burning brighter and brighter  
> I feel alive again, [I feel alive again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlFT-FgvCO4)
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and, as always, thank you [Esselle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/profile) for your editing and encouragement <3
> 
> [Tumblr]


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